


You with me?

by KyberHearts_And_StardustSouls



Series: Til the universe tears us apart [1]
Category: Star Wars Alternative Timeline, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), star wars the last jedi
Genre: Before TFA, Before TLJ, Black Squadron - Freeform, Love, New Republic Fleet, Other, Rapier Squadron, Some hints at smut, Written into story line
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-03-07 10:41:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 27,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13432998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyberHearts_And_StardustSouls/pseuds/KyberHearts_And_StardustSouls
Summary: Reader and Poe meet at New Republic Starfleet academy. A friendship that turns into more and is tested through the years.Heads up:This reader insert is written into Poe's timeline. I have not read the books or comics, and everything I know regarding his timeline outside the movies is based on internet research, thus the timeline will not always match up. The story will span academy until post TLJ [to include interweaved story lines from Before the Awakening, Poe Dameron comics, The Force Awakens, and The Last Jedi. Therefore,spoiler alertif you've not read or seen any of the aforementioned.]





	1. Chapter 1

“That’s my seat.”  
You turn your head towards the voice, a set of dark brown eyes squinting at you.  
You give the voice a slow, from-head-to-toe once-over. Dark curls, full lips, trained body. Once you reach the floor, your eyes trail back up. Boots, slacks, uniform top, strong jaw, stubble, silk-like softness, and...  
...a cocky smile when the person behind the voice realizes you’re checking him out. Cocky, with deep creases. Deeper in the left cheek than the right.  
  
Your line of sight falls to the insignia on his top and you give him a smile of your own. “That so? Maybe next time be punctual, Cadet.”  
He scoffs, crossing his arms at the chest, clinging on to a data-pad in one hand. “I was punctual. You were early. Cadet.” He counters; the last word drawn out like he needs to make you aware that you, too, are a student.  
You shrug and don’t budge. In fact, you cross your own arms and slouch into the back of the chair he proclaimed is his seat; feet set with a wider gap as you make yourself like farium. “Not my problem.”  
  
“Everyone, take your seats, please.” The instructor’s voice pulls both your attention to the front of the lecture hall. “Dameron, that means you, too!”  
You chuckle when you see the voice -now known to you as Cadet Dameron- turn red at the ears.  
“Fine.” He hisses as he manipulates himself into a chair a row up behind you. “Just so you know... tomorrow, I’ll be here early, too. Then it’s on.” He whispers towards you and you chuckle.  
“We’ll see, Cadet. We’ll see.”  
  
“Dameron! Stop interrupting my class. In fact, since you seem rather chatty, why don’t you get your ass down here and explain on this board what happens when you go into a 180 before you optimize intake pressure recovery.” The instructor holds a stern expression.  
“Thanks a lot.” The young cadet grumbles through gritting teeth and you shrug.  
“No problem.”  
  
To your surprise, Cadet Dameron explains the repercussions of failing to optimize with ease. He even adds a few other scenarios. A bit of a showoff move, but you actually don’t mind.  
This one is smart, you think to yourself as you continue to listen to different scenarios and solutions; noting the wide smile on his face whenever the instructor nods in agreement. A wide and rather dashing smile.  
  
Smart and handsome, you think to yourself; and looking around, it seems, so does the rest of the class, with how they’re fixated on his every word.  
“... so, to spiral around the vertical you have to yaw, then stall...”  
Your ears perk up. “Sorry but that’s wrong. You gotta yaw and stall simultaneously to send the craft into a vertical spiral.” You shoot out.  
  
All eyes are on you but in that moment only his matter to you. There’s a fraction of //how kriffing dare you interrupt me// on his face before he composes himself to a tall stance. Tall with squared shoulders and arms, yet again, crossed at the chest. “That’s what I said.” His left brow pulls down.  
“No, you didn’t. You said yaw, then stall.”  
“I’m very sure I said...”  
“Cadet [Y/L/N] is right.” The instructor intervenes.  
  
A cough from someone else in the room and Cadet Dameron clenches his jaw staring at you. Second time you’ve gotten to him in less than thirty minutes. But then his posture changes. “Alright. You have to yaw and stall simultaneously. In order to do that you first...” He continues with a self-assured smirk. No more mistakes after that, and he knows.  
  
You know he knows because, on his way back to his chair, he winks at you. And you? You chuckle, again, lightly shaking your head.  
Smart and handsome AND cocky.  
“Still going to get my seat back.” He whispers when the instructor’s back is turned to you, and you hum a //we’ll see// in response.


	2. Chapter 2

Dameron arrives early. Just like he'd said he would.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” His brows pull tight when he finds you already sitting in his seat; you smiling confidently at him with arms crossed and feet set apart.

"What took you so long? Been here for half an hour." You smirk.

 “Alright. I see how it is. So, are we going to camp out in front of the hall from now on or...?”  
“If it means, I get to keep this seat,... sure, why not.” You hold a daring brow and his jaw slacks for a second. “I’m just teasing. You can have your seat back.” You ready yourself to pull yourself to a stand just to stop halfway. “If... you get a higher score on today’s quiz.” You plop back down, your confident smile widening.  
  
His eyes narrow at the words, then he takes the same seat as the day before. One row up and right behind you. “Oh... it’s on, Sweetheart.” He whispers, and you can feel the smirk in his voice.  
  
You throw him a look over your shoulder before pivoting in the chair. “Sweetheart, huh? Sorry cadet. No one gets to call me that. No one, unless...”  
“Unless?”  
“They’ve known me for a long time.”  
“I’ve known you too long already.”  
  
You laugh at the seriousness in his voice. And at the pretended discontent.  
You know it’s pretended because you catch the tiny upward curl at the left side of his mouth, and the slight sarcasm in his raised brow. “Ah yeah? Then what’s my name, Cadet Dameron?”  
He leans in, a mischievous smile taking over his whole face. “It’s... Cadet [Y/L/N]. Cadet [Y/F/N] [Y/L/N].”  
  
You internalize a gasp. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction that he’s taken you a bit off guard by actually knowing your full name. You shrug and pivot back around.  
“It’s Poe, by the way,” you hear Cadet Dameron whisper over your shoulder when the instructor sends the quiz to your data-pads, the screens on red indicating that the quiz is still locked.  
“What is?” You whisper back, focus on your screen.  
“My first name.”  
You swear you can hear another smirk in his voice. No time for a reply this time. The screens turn green and the quiz starts.  
  
“So. Let’s see it.” Poe covers his data-pad with his hand.  
You perk a brow. “You first.”  
“Alright. 97.” Poe smiles a smug smile as he shows off his score.  
You perk your brow again. “98.” You flip your data-pad over so he can see.  
“Never getting my seat back, am I?” Poe asks, wide-eyed, and you chuckle.  
  
The chatter of your right seat neighbor pulls your attention from Poe. Despaired chatter because they got a 78. “Don’t worry. We’re only three weeks in. I’ll help you study. Let me see what you got wrong so we can figure out where exactly you need help.” You lean in to look over the answers; completely missing the soft smile forming on Poe’s face when he overhears you helping your neighbor, before he, too, goes over the quiz with the students sitting next to him.  
  
The instructor dismisses the class and you gather your things, ready to head back to your quarters for some much-needed rest. After all, that 98 isn’t some coincidence. It’s late nights and early mornings. Study sessions until your brain can’t hold any more information.  
  
“So Cadet [Y/L/N]. You with me?” Poe’s voice catches you off guard on your way out. Mainly because your mind is already two days ahead, planning the next study session.  
You stop in your tracks, processing. “What?”  
“We’re going to grab a drink. Wondering if you wanted to come along?” Poe points with his thumb towards a small group.  
  
“Uhm.... is that even allowed?”  
“Oh for Maker’s sake! Please tell me you’re not one of those //go by the book// type. ‘Cause if you are, these next four years are going to be boring as kriff.”  
You chuckle. “Didn’t say that. Just... you know. Wasn’t too sure about you, Dameron.” You quirk a brow.  
Poe booms out a laugh. “Yeah right. Like you haven’t figured me out already.”  
Kriffing hell, is he confident or what?  
  
You shake your head and walk on, and Poe follows. “Come on, [Y/N]. It’s Benduday. Besides, I gotta get to know you better. Or else, I’ll never get to call you Sweetheart.”  
“That cocky attitude is going to get you punched one day, you know that, Dameron.”  
“By who? You?”  
“You wait and see.” You stop walking and raise a clenched fist, then look around. Everyone else seems to be making plans. The words chess, library, mess-hall thrown around. You hitch a sigh. “I guess... I guess a break would be good.”  
Poe nods, his browns sparking with a certain something. And if you had to pinpoint the something, you’d describe it as //this one’s trouble// and you like it already.  
  
“Dameron, come on man. We’ll miss the shuttle if we wait much longer.”  
“Hold on... so, [Y/N], you with me?” He smiles, creases forming in his cheeks. Deeper in the left than the right.  
You shake your head, a bit abashed because you know, you just know, these next four years are going to be trouble. “I’m with you, Poe.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know little to nothing about aviation. Forgive me.

“[Y/N] remember, yaw and stall. Yaw and stall.” You hear Poe’s voice crackle through the comm.  
“Kriff. Kriiiiifffff!” You cuss, clear panic in your voice as you try to remember the sequence.  
“[Y/N], you can do this! Come on! Remember two years ago. You taught me this. Yaw and stall simultaneously. Just... breathe. Decelerate, then yaw port and stall the throttle at the same time.”  
You close your eyes for a fraction of a second and take a slow breath, then do as Poe instructs, finally spinning into a successful downward, vertical axis spiral before recovering to an upward loop. “Thanks, Poe.” You flank starboard towards Poe’s fighter.  
  
“Don’t thank me, yet, Cadet. One more maneuver to test our skills. You with me, [Y/N]?”  
“I’m with you, Poe.”  
“You with me, Shadow Squadron?”  
“We’re with you, Poe.” Crackles over the comm.  
“Good. Remember what I showed you. Get ready to drop altitude. Let’s go in fast and hard, and show ‘em how we light the fire.” There’s a chuckle. There always is a chuckle because you know that he likes to make things sound dirtier than they are.  
  
You follow Poe’s lead, finger on trigger, ready to hit the fast approaching targets.  
“Alright, here we go. Hold... hold... hold... FIRE!”  
You squeeze the trigger, flashes of red hitting the targets.  
“Five red. Five green. Loop and repeat. Loop and repeat.” Poe’s voice instructs over the comm and you follow.  
  
You approach the targets again, waiting for Poe’s command, but the targets break formation.  
“Alright, squad. We got this! Shadow Two, Shadow Three, flank port and loop. Gonna grab 'em with a pincer. Shadow Four and Five, with me, hard starboard. Here we go. Fire at will within distance. Let’s not give them time to regroup.”  
“Roger that, Shadow One.” Is the unison response.  
  
The squad breaks formation, you following Poe’s six, Shadow Five behind you. “Just like I showed you. Hard starboard, accelerate, shoot, loop to recover, reformation. ”  
You do as instructed.  
“Yes. All red!” You cheer.  
“I knew, I could count on you, [Y/N].” You hear Poe’s voice, an obvious pride in his.  
“ ‘Course you knew.”  
You hear Poe chuckle. “Great job, squad. Shadow Two, Three, and Five, return to base. Shadow Four, you with me. Going to practice a few more spirals and rolls. Maybe a few pitches.”  
  
You flank Poe’s starboard again, holding position and waiting for instructions while you watch the rest of the squad break away.  
“You ready to repeat this tomorrow, [Y/N]? Out there?”  
Through the glass of the cockpit, you see Poe pointing to the sky. “Kriff yeah.”  
“Good, because if you’re not, you gotta let me know. Because this is it, Cadet. The day they decide who gets to stay and who’s moving on to fly supply ships.”  
“I’m ready, Poe!”  
“Alright, Sweetheart. I mean, otherwise, I’ll have given up my seat for nothing the last two years.” Poe laughs wholeheartedly, and so do you.  
  
“If you gonna continue calling me that, I’ll have to insist on a date.”  
“Ah yeah? Ok. How about the graduation ball.”  
“You serious?”  
“Kriff yeah.”  
“Poe, that’s another two years. You think you can wait that long?”  
You hear Poe laugh. “If it means, I get to dance with you, kriff yeah.”  
You snicker.  
“So what do you say, [Y/N]? You with me?”  
“I’m with you, Poe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * port: left side of ship when facing forward (bow)  
> ** starboard: right side of ship when facing forward (bow)


	4. Chapter 4

The hats fly high, Poe hugging you tightly. “Congratulations, Lieutenant.” He lets go and salutes you, and you laugh.  
Not just at the fact that you’ve finally graduated, but at the spark in Poe’s eyes. There’s a pride behind those browns. Not just at himself, but you as well.  
“Congratulations, too, Lieutenant.” You salute back.  
  
Poe hugs you again, then his attention shifts. His eyes search the vicinity of the growing crowd. Parents, friends, and high ranking officers now flooding the field. “There he is!” Poe captures your hand and pulls you through the crowd towards whoever he was searching for. Then he lets go to hug a man similar in looks to his. It’s a warm embrace. A long one. One with pats on the back and cradled faces. And a kiss on Poe’s forehead.  
  
“[Y/N], come here. I want you to meet my dad.” Poe beams ear to ear. “Dad, this is [Y/N]. [Y/N], this is my dad, Kes.”  
You stretch out your hand, and Kes accepts, shaking yours with a strong grip. “[Y/N], hmmm? Lieutenant as well now, I see.” Kes smiles back and forth between you and Poe. Somehow you know, Poe’s told stories about you.  
“Yes, Sir.” You shake Kes’ hand with an equally strong grip.  
“I was a grunt. Not an officer,” Kes perks a strict brow.  
You gulp out a “sorry” and Kes laughs.  
  
“Just teasing. So. Tell me about my son. Did he behave the last four years? Or did he get you into all sorts of trouble.”  
You snicker. Clearly, Kes knows his son. “Well, one time, he reprogrammed one of the generals’ droids, so every time someone called for attention, the droid played “Mad About Me” by Figrin D'an and the Modal Nodes. Another time, we were on a hike, and Poe kept adding rocks to the lead officer’s pack. And then another time...” You spill as you start walking towards the mess-hall for graduation lunch; one of your arms hooked into Kes’, and Poe looking after you for a few paces before catching up.  
  
“Ok... so... let’s get one thing straight. I wasn’t the only one.” Poe interjects as you ready another story.  
“Oh? I don’t doubt that. I mean anyone putting up with your mischief has to have a few skeletons in their closet.” Kes smirks at you and you bite your lower lip.  
“He always instigated.”  
“I can believe that.”  
“Dad!”  
  
A few hours later you rush towards the banquet hall, dressed to the nines.  
Lunch had taken a little longer than anticipated, Kes telling stories of his own. Not that you had minded. You had enjoyed seeing and hearing Kes talk. Not only about his son, but his late wife, too. There was so much love in Kes’ voice for both. Even now it makes you smile.  
  
Your thoughts stray for a moment. Sometimes, when you looked at Kes during lunch, it was almost as though seeing a mirror image of Poe. Half a mirror image at least. The other half obviously Poe’s mother. Even though you’ve never met Poe’s mom, and sadly never will, you venture that the remainder of Poe is very much like her. Something that makes you smile even wider. If Poe is anything like Kes, and how Kes has described Shara...  
  
You stop for a second, catching your breath and holding your thought. Kriff. If he is anything like them, you don’t know how you’re going to deal if your first assignments have you stationed at opposing ends of the galaxy. You swallow the lump in the back of your throat, slowly pacing the rest towards the banquet hall.  
  
“There you are.” Poe smiles. “You look great.” He gives a thumbs up.  
“You clean up pretty nicely, too.” You smirk at Poe. For the first time in four years, you see him freshly shaven and with tamed curls.  
“Thanks. I would've picked you up but my dad..."

"Don't worry. I know you've missed him."

Poe holds out his elbow, a soft smile now on his face. "So... dance? Or you wanna check out the assignment lists?”  
Your eyes go wide. “They’re up already?”   
Poe laughs and nods towards the hallway.  
  
You speed to the lists, your heart racing, your index tracing over names. “Looks like I’m assigned to Tharixx 5.” Your index continues until you find Poe’s name, you skipping a few breaths. A few heartbeats, too.  
“So, [Y/N]? You with me?”  
You bite your lip, smiling. “I’m with you, Poe.”  



	5. Chapter 5

Poe kisses into the curve of your neck, squeezing you close to himself.  
“Congratulations on the promotion, Captain.” You breathe against heated skin.  
“Say it again.”  
“Congratulations?”  
“No, my rank.”  
“Ca-aaahhh-ptain.” You gasp when Poe bites your shoulder with a growl.  
  
“This should be my reward for every promotion,” he wheezes out a laugh and you pinch his arm.  
“Stop talking and keep going.” You pick up the pace, your bodies moving in synchronous rhythm.  
“Kriff. So close. So close!” Poe's hold on you tightens, squeezing the air from your lungs.  
You're barely able to manage a “me, too”.  
  
Poe rocks harder into you. More bites. More kisses. “Maker, uhhhh... Kriff... " His eyes squeeze shut and his body begins to tremble. "I love you, [Y/N].” He husks out with the last push. He stills, his head falling onto your shoulder, beads of sweat rolling onto your skin.  
  
It takes a moment for you to realize what he’s just said. You tug on his curls and he looks up; warm browns behind long lashes meeting your eyes.  
“Say it again.” You whisper with a light pant as your heart slows to a normal pace.  
Poe bites his lip. “I love you, [Y/N].”  
You gulp, then bite your own lip and Poe can sense some disbelief.  
“I mean it. I love you.”  
You laugh softly, your head falling on Poe’s shoulder. “Took you long enough.” You hold a breath. A long exhale follows. “I love you, too.” You can feel Poe smirking at that.  
“I know.” His hold on you loosens and you both fall onto twisted sheets and stray pillows.  
  
“So... Tell me. Could you imagine staying on Tharixx 5?” Poe whispers as he details your face with his fingers.  
You roll to your back and fold your arms behind your head, staring at the ceiling of Poe’s quarters. “Eh. I guess. I mean it's ok. Bit boring.”  
“Boring? You need more tasks to fill your day?” Poe chuckles.  
“Maybe I need a challenge.” You counter and Poe perks a brow.  
“A challenge, hmmm? Ok. I can teach you the ‘L’ulo Stand’ if you want.”  
  
You hum and nod in agreement, then you sigh.  “I wish we were in the same squadron.”  
 “You know, that wouldn’t work. We’d always try and pull rank on each other, Captain.” Poe snickers.  
“That’s true, huh? Captain.” You pause and flip back to your side, teasing lines on Poe’s chest. “At least we’re on the same planet.” You smile.  
“Very true, Sweetheart.” Poe's face softens as he leans a kiss on your forehead.  
  
“You know, if you gonna keep calling me that, I’ll have to insist on shared quarters.” You chuckle, and so does Poe. He sits up and winks at you, then gets dressed. He winks, again and your brows pull tight.  
“What’s that for?”  
Poe just smirks.  
“Poe!” 

He shrugs and you throw a pillow against his head. "Tell me, Dameron!"  
“Alright. It was supposed to be a surprise but since you insist... I requested for joined quarters and it’s been approved.”

You sit up, perplexed. “How’d you do that? We’re not married.”  
“I know. But they’re making an exception for us.”  
“Right, because you’re such a charming guy.”  
“Hey! I am a charming guy!” Poe flips his hair in a dramatic way and you laugh, falling back onto the mattress.  
“So. What do you say, [Y/N]? You with me?”

You shake your head in disbelief. Damn this man. Damn his charm. Damn his confidence. Damn his flyboy ego. "Does this mean, I have to pick up your socks?"  
"If you're already cleaning..."  
You toss another pillow at him and he laughs, crawling back onto his bed to capture your hands before you can toss another one. "I'm kidding. I'll pick up after myself. I promise."  
You snort, looking around his room. Socks aren't the only things littering the floor. Or his chair. But you don't seem to mind. Military life is a busy one. And there are bigger things to worry about than a few stray socks or shirts or data-pads.  
You inhale slowly, and exhale even slower, palming Poe's face. “Alright. I’m with you, Poe.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

Poe's eyes stay fixed on the commanding officer at the center of the briefing room. There’s a seriousness to Poe that's fairly new to you. A seriousness that comes with deeply etched forehead creases and a tight jaw.  
You lightly squeeze his thigh under the table and he grants a quick side-glance. The glance is just enough for you to catch something else. Growing frustration. Anger.  
   
"You're dismissed." The commanding officer declares and people start to exit the room.  
"This is such Bantha-shit." Poe hisses through gritted teeth, and you capture his hand.  
The C.O. pivots towards you, and your hold on Poe's hand tightens. "You've got something to say, Major Dameron?"  
"I've got plenty to say, Colonel Varless." You squeeze Poe's hand but now that he sees the challenge, there's no going back for him. No retreat. No biting his tongue. "When is the New Republic going to realize that the First Order isn't just establishing trade agreements, but scoping out planets for promising outpost sites."  
"There's no proof that they intend to expand, Major Dameron." Colonel Varless responds with a cold but calm voice.  
   
From the corner of your eye, you can see Poe's jugular picking up speed. "Poe." You whisper as you squeeze his hand yet again; your nails nearly breaking his skin while you hold an intense //don't antagonize him// stare, but he doesn't seem to notice. His eyes are fixated on Varless.  
   
Poe frees his hand from yours, and you mumble out a "kriff". "No proof. No proof! Are you kidding me?" Poe's voice gains volume. Volume and agitation. "Three... THREE planets in the last month alone with newly established trade agreements. You cannot tell me they're just there to sell Blossom-Berry wine or whatever the kriff they're selling!"  
   
"Major Dameron. I've told you once. And I'm telling you again. There's no proof of expansion beyond the agreements. No new sites have been built. No word of the First Order even intending to build spaceports. Your intel. Is. Wrong!" Colonel Varless' voice gains some edge now.  
"If it's wrong, why are you reassigning me to Mirrin Prime? Patrol small trade routes? To catch small-time smugglers? I tell you why. To tuck me away so I won't ask any more questions!" Poe's eye twitches and you ready yourself for the repercussions. Yelling. Threat of cantina duty. Or even the brig.  
   
Instead, Colonel Varless stands hauntingly calm. "You are dismissed, Majors." The colonel holds a rigid posture as he waits for you both to leave.  
Poe shakes his head. "This is a joke." He mutters before gathering his data-pad.  
"One more word, Major Dameron, and you can stay and scrub the floors by hand," Varless warns.  
"Poe. Let's go. Let's... just go. We need to pack." You recapture Poe's hand, this time circling your thumb over the back, and he, at last, looks into your eyes.  
   
You walk silently towards your shared quarters. A place you've called home for nearly two years now. Poe readies a few, heavy-duty boxes and starts throwing his stuff in however. Angry tosses that nearly topple the boxes. You pace his way, and, just as he's about to throw another pair of boots, you palm his face. "I believe you, Poe. You know that, right?"  
Poe folds his hand over yours and exhales a long sigh. "I know you do, [Y/N]. I need them to believe me, too."  
"I know."  
   
Poe lets go of you and returns to packing. "Need to repack these." He chuckles, and so do you.  
Silence settles again. You pack up your own things. Amazing how much stuff you've collected since you've moved in with Poe. Trinkets from minor missions. Glass marbles that throw the most beautiful kaleidoscopic effects when sunlight hits them the right way. Even a few books. Paper books. Those are a rarity. To this day you don't know how Poe got his hands on those.  
   
You smile, then you feel Poe's arms slip around you from behind.  
“I hear all these stories about my mother. How she was a hero. Brave, outspoken, take charge. And here I am. About to patrol trade lanes when the First Order is building outposts right under our noses. At least... at least they're reassigning you with me.” Poe hitches a breath, and you laugh. A bit of a mock in the way you do.  
   
"Yeah. Because they know if you're not asking the questions, I will." You scoff out another mock-laced laugh, then Poe nudges you to face him.  
You turn in his embrace, a gasp escaping your lips. For the first time since you've met him, his eyes lack that certain spark. The one you've dubbed //this one’s trouble//, and you don't like it. There's a coldness there instead. Empty coldness.  
   
You palm his face again, then Poe nuzzles your neck, placing a tender kiss. “Whatever happens, promise me, you’ll always be with me. Promise me.”  
You gently cradle Poe's face, your thumb running over his lips. "I'm with you, Poe." You kiss him reassuringly and he pulls you into a long embrace.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally getting to the actual interweaving of story lines. I have not read the comics or books, so timelines will not always match.

"This isn't going to be a problem, is it?"  
"No, sir!" Is the unison response.  
"Good, because if it is, I'll reassign one of you to the supply unit. We can always use more pilots there."  
You and Poe side-eye each other for a second. "It's not a problem, sir." Poe reiterates.  
"In that case, welcome to Mirrin Prime, Major Dameron. Major [Y/L/N]."  
"Thank you, Major Deso." A unison response, again.  
   
Major Deso collects a few data-pads from his desk then gestures to follow him. "Let me introduce you to your new squadron, majors." Deso walks in quick, stiff steps towards one of the hangars on base. Once there, the first thing you see is five, brand new looking T-85s. A sight that makes your heart skip a few beats.  
   
"New fighters." You whisper from the side towards Poe and he chuckles at your ear to ear smile. The ones at the academy hadn't been bad but they had been due for decommission even before you had graduated. And the fighters on Tharixx 5? Those had been just one model behind from those at the academy. So yes. Your heart skips a few beats at the sight of the brand new x-wing fighters.   
   
"Major Dameron. Major [Y/L/N]. This is Rapier Squadron. Lieutenants Kun, Arana, and Muran." Deso's voice has the lieutenants fall in line and stand at attention. "Lieutenants, meet your new squad leader, Major Dameron, and second in command, Major [Y/L/N]."  
The lieutenants salute, waiting eyes settling on you and Poe.  
   
"At ease!" Poe commands, and they do as told. "I got it from here, Major Deso," Poe smirks slightly, seeing if Deso gets the hint that Poe wants him to leave.  
Deso hands over the data-pads to Poe. A quick glimpse from your peripheral reveals them to be the lieutenants' jackets*. "Very well. Mission briefing tomorrow morning. 0700 hours. Don't be late!" Deso turns on his heel and leaves, once again walking in quick, stiff steps.  
   
Poe tracks him for a while until he loses line of sight. He heaves a breath, lips pursing a bit. "Another C.O. with a stick up his ass," Poe grumbles, and a choked back laugh is the response.  
His attention returns to the three lieutenants waiting for further instructions, zeroing in on Lieutenant Kun, whose watery eyes are a dead giveaway. "You can laugh. Just don't tell on me." Poe quirks a stern brow.  
   
"And you don't, Sir?" That question comes from Lieutenant Kun's right-hand side. With a smug smirk that rivals Poe's, but an otherwise steadfast posture. Cool confidence a fitting term.  
"Don't what, Lieutenant Muran?"  
"Have a stick up your ass, Sir?" Lieutenant Muran's smirk doesn't falter, nor does his posture. In fact, he looks even smugger.  
Poe's eyes narrow, then he looks at you. "This feels familiar."  
   
You perk a brow; the brow quivering as you try to hold back your amusement. "Don't know what you mean, Major Dameron."  
"This is going to be an interesting assignment." Poe's eyes go wide; the lieutenants now unable to hold back a collective laugh. It stops quickly when Poe throws them a squint.  
   
"Sorry, Major." Lieutenant Arana speaks this time.  
Poe shakes his head and chuckles. "No need." He peers face to face, waiting eyes still settled on him. "On duty, it's Major Dameron. Off duty, it's Poe. And since it's past six, where's the nearest bar?"  
   
"About ten minutes right outside the gate." Lieutenant Muran's eyes spark with a bit of mischief.  
"Not even an hour on base, and you're already trying to get these poor lieutenants into trouble." You smirk at Poe.  
"Us in trouble? Please. We've never been in trouble." Lieutenant Kun folds her arms in pretended offense.  
"Now why do I find that hard to believe."  
"Don't even Poe. Like you're any better. Let me all tell you guys what stunt he pulled on his last station." You pace towards the lieutenants, the story already at the tip of your tongue as you take lead towards the gate, Poe gazing after you for a while.  
   
"Dameron! You with me?" You yell when you notice Poe not following.  
Poe chuckles at the words. "That's my line." He calls after you.  
You shrug and he laughs. "I'm with you, [Y/N]." He calls out and you start back up, another story of Poe's shenanigans in tow.  
Poe holds the gaze a little longer, a smile etching deep creases in his cheeks when you wave for him to hurry up. "Always." He whispers as he fumbles with the chain around his neck before finally catching up with you.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Jackets, a service term for personnel files.


	8. Chapter 8

Poe places his hand on the reader and the door swooshes open. His lips purse at the sight. "Smaller than what we had on Tharixx 5, but at least we're not staying at the Inn anymore." He nods, then takes lead into your newly assigned quarters. He tests the faucet in the kitchenette, and the burners of the nanowave stove then makes his way to the living room. "No office space." You hear him say before you do your own inspection of the place.  
   
You test all the doors, check out the refresher, and finish your small tour in the bedroom. "The bed is nice." You yell towards the living room; bouncing on the mattress to check its firmness.  
Poe comes to view in the bedroom door, a grin plastered on his face while he watches you. "That so? I should probably double check. Just to make sure." He wiggles his brows suggestively and you roll your eyes with a laugh.  
"No time for that, Dameron. Our stuff will be here soon."  
"But... bed... test run... gotta make sure." Poe pouts overdramatically and you laugh again.  
   
He paces closer and you raise a warning brow. "Poe. Don't you dare!"  
He smirks and slows his approach, darkened eyes dragging over you like he's hunting prey.  
"Poe Dameron. I'm warning y...aahhhhhhhh." You fall backward as Poe leaps on top of you and traps you under his body.  
   
You squirm, hands pushing against his shoulders but he just laughs and captures your hands towards the sides of your head. You squirm some more and he offers a mischievous smile in return. Then a warm one. A warm lost-in-thought one.  
   
You still and Poe lets go of your hands so he can detail the features of your face with his fingertips, your own raking lightly across the plane of his back. But fingertips aren't enough for him. He leans in and starts trailing kisses down your neck.  
   
You barely manage his name when his lips meet your skin.   
And he barely manages to mumble a "what?"  
"Our stuff, Poe."  
"I know."  
"It'll be here soon."  
"I know."  
"No time." You draw out the words with a gasp, and he moans softly. He's found that spot. The one he knows makes you cave every single time. And now he's working it over with velvet strokes and sucked in skin and you forget to breathe for a moment. "Better hurry up." You whisper with shortening breaths, your hands already undoing his pants, and his yours.  
   
There's a snicker when you open the door not even fifteen minutes later so the movers can offload your things. It's either aimed at your disheveled hair and your half-tucked shirt, or at Poe's attempt to cram his feet into his boots right behind you. Either way, you roll your eyes. At both, the movers and Poe. "Told you so." You whisper, granting the movers access to your abode at last.  
"If you hadn't insisted on that thing you like, we'd have been done just in time," Poe whispers back behind a sheepish grin and you lightly punch his arm.  
   
The delivery of your household goods doesn't take long. Figuring out where to put everything, however, is another story. "I guess we have to convert one corner into an office space," Poe suggests and you agree.  
   
You start unpacking kitchen boxes and Poe moves furniture from one corner to another. "What about this?"  
You shake your head. "I think the sofa looked better on the other side."  
Poe hitches a breath. "You sure? Absolutely sure? Just asking because it'll be the last time, I move this thing."  
You giggle at the annoyance in his voice and nod. "Actually..."  
"Are you kidding me!" Poe huffs before he's even pushed the sofa in place.  
"I'm teasing. That wall works fine." You laugh, then return to unpacking more kitchen supplies.  
   
You stow away the last of the plates then watch Poe hang some star charts in the office corner. "Did you get an astromech assigned, yet?" You ask.  
"I did. A beebee unit. What about you?"  
You pace towards Poe and help him tape the star charts in place. "Same."  
"Nice. What color is yours?"  
"Green. Yours?"  
"Orange."  
   
Poe hangs the last of the star charts, then takes a step back. There's a quiet moment between the two of you as you look over the charts which are littered with markers.  
"I've got a bad feeling, [Y/N]," Poe whispers while he studies the charts. His attention shifts to you, and you can see the gears turning behind his browns. "There's a war on the horizon. I can feel it in my bones. And my father agrees."  
   
You caress Poe's cheek, the three-day stubble scratching your skin. "Maybe Major Deso will listen."  
Poe's mouth twists, the bitterness towards Colonel Varless's indifference still fresh in his mind. "Maybe he will. Or maybe, he's like them."  
Your eyes shift to the star charts, then back to Poe. You thumb his cheek, already knowing the question he wants to ask next. "Whatever happens, I'm with you, Poe."  
 


	9. Chapter 9

"Another day of patrol fun." Poe sulks. He nurses a beer, line of sight cutting towards you.  
You're seated by the bar, laughing at whatever Lieutenant Arana has just told. Lieutenant Muran joins you, ordering himself an Ice Blaster, eyes and ears also on Lieutenant Arana.  
   
"What's the deal with you two anyways?"  
Poe's brows pull tight, but his eyes stay on you. "What do you mean?"  
Lieutenant Kun shakes her head. "I know you two are an item. But what's the deal? [Y/N] told me, you've been together since graduating from the academy."  
Poe's attention shifts to Lieutenant Kun, brows still pulled tight. "Is there a question in there, Karé?"  
   
Karé tilts her head, then rolls her eyes. As much as he tries, Poe can't hide the fact that he knows what Karé is getting at, and the young lieutenant isn't about to let the issue slide.  
Poe scratches over his stubble, then takes another sip from his beer. And another one. And one more, hoping his stalling technique will work, but Karé doesn't budge. He draws in a long breath and takes another sip. This time for courage. "I've wanted to ask. More than once."  
   
Karé's left brow quirks high and Poe's face finally softens. Not exactly into a smile. But his brows relax and his gaze trails back to you.  
"Why do I get the feeling you two have never talked about this?" The surprise on Poe's face is undeniable. Karé had hit the nail on the head and she knows it. She shakes her head, again. "You're such a chicken shit, Poe."  
"Hey! I am your commanding officer."  
"Off duty, you're not. Chicken shit." Karé repeats with a mock-tinged laugh then makes her way towards your group.  
   
Poe watches on for a while. The way you laugh, the way you get along with the squad, the way you always are... just... you. There's no one he trusts more. No one he loves more. His dad, maybe. But that's different.  
   
This kind of love, however? It's always been you. Even before you two had graduated. If Poe is honest with himself, that's probably why nothing else had ever worked out for him while he'd been at the academy. And if he is completely honest with himself, he's glad nothing had for you either.  
   
He finishes his beer and joins you at the bar, you sliding your arms around his waist and leaning your head against his shoulder without second thought, and he, also without second thought, kisses into your hair. There's a slow moment where the rest of the squad goes silent, Karé lightly elbowing Poe and giving him a look from the side, but Poe shakes his head.  
   
"Chicken shit." Karé mouths behind a vertical hand and Poe's eyes shift to you, a sigh of relief when he realizes that the exchange went unnoticed by you. Or so he assumes when you order one last round of Ice Blasters before it's time to head back to base.  
   
It takes twice as long to walk back this time. The last drink hitting a little harder than anticipated. "How does Muran keep drinking Ice Blasters without keeling over after the first one?" You giggle as you sway towards the bed. You fall face first, sighing at how soothingly cool the sheets feel against your skin. Another minute and purred snores echo through the room. From you.  
   
Poe takes in the sight, amused when he pulls off your boots and you mumble in your sleep. He gazes at you a little while longer, caressing your cheek before he carefully curls up next to you, face to face just so he can watch you some more. A twitch from you and he holds a breath, listening intently to make sure you're asleep. "I'm such a chicken shit." He whispers.  
   
The calm of the night hits Poe and he starts lulling off.  
"You sure are." You whisper back. Your eyes flutter open, a smirk on your face when you see Poe's shocked stare.  
"I thought, you're asleep." He gulps, and you chuckle. "[Y/N]... I ... Do you... I mean..." Poe stumbles over the words, and you silence him with your index.  
"I'm not going to put you on the spot, Commander." You chuckle again. "But sooner or later, it would be nice."  
   
Poe smiles, relief in how he relaxes closer to you. "Glad we're on the same page, Major."  
"Aren't we always."  
"Yes."  
"Good. Now shut up and go to sleep. According to Deso, we have another exciting patrol ahead." You grumble as you flip in Poe's hold so he can spoon you.  
He exhales a long breath, nuzzling into the back of your neck, arm tightening around your waist. "I'm so glad, you're with me, [Y/N]."  
"I'll always be with you, Poe. Always."  
A smile against your skin is his response before his mind drifts into much-needed sleep.  
 


	10. Chapter 10

You trudge towards Bay Seven, a pounding headache making you wish someone would knock the sun out of the sky. Not even your glare-shades help with the light sensitivity that comes with the hangover.  
   
"Morning, Boss." Karé's voice booms from across the bay, a bit of a taunt laced into those words. She's very much aware of your current state, and you wonder how none of your fellow squad members ever feel the effects of three Ice Blasters like you do.  
"Karé... I mean, Lieutenant Kun... please." Your voice nearly begs for her not to continue so loudly.  
   
Karé laughs wholeheartedly and you cringe at the noise. And at every other noise in Bay Seven. Drills, humming engines, and beeping droids.  
"There's a pot of fresh caf in the Commander's office." Karé points with her thumb over her shoulder towards Poe's office, and you trudge on with a grumbled "thanks."  
"No problem, Boss." Karé booms out even louder. You squint at her and she makes her way to her T-85, a loud laugh in tow, and her trusty R-4 droid rolling along behind her.  
   
When you reach Poe's office, the door is wide open. You don't bother to knock. You never have. An open door means come in. An angled one means wait. A closed one? Come back later. This is true not just for you, but the rest of the squad. So it doesn't surprise you to find Lieutenant Arana sitting relaxed in one of the chairs, chatting with Poe over whatever; Poe sitting just as relaxed behind his desk while Lieutenant Muran leans quite nonchalantly against the same.  
   
"Only here for the caf." You point towards the caf distiller and Poe chuckles.  
"You alright, Major?" Poe's face widens to a knowing smirk, and you grouch out some incoherent word. At least Poe had let you sleep in and skip morning  PT*. He knows, if he dares to wake you up early after one of those nights, he'll hit the floor faster than the speed of sound.   
   
It doesn't stop Poe from giving you his signature smirk. His gaze stays on you while you prep a cup with the much-needed caffeine-laden drink. A sip and a nod and a content sigh, and Poe chuckles again. "Remind me not to have Ice Blasters again. Ever!" You take another sip, taking off your glare-shades at last only for Poe to fall into a laugh when he sees your eyes. Dark circles, a bit blood-shot, a bit glazed over, and definitely grouchy.  
   
"That's what you said last time." Lieutenant Arana tries his best to suppress his own laugh at the sight of you. And Muran? He offers a smirk. One as knowing as Poe's. Probably because he's the one who'd dared you to try the damning concoction in the first place.  
"Shouldn't you be getting your X-Wings flight-ready, Lieutenants." You grumble, and like Karé, Lieutenant Arana makes his way to his T-85; also with a loud laugh.  
   
Muran, on the other hand, doesn't move. Not yet. His lip curls into another smirk before he even considers gearing towards the door. "The trick is drinking Moonberry Nectar between drinks, Major." He winks before he takes his amusement outside.  
You, of course, know that them deriding you is a way of showing their fondness. And a way of lightening the mood in an otherwise gray kind of setting. It's how this squad works. They know when to joke and when to fall in line. Even so, you can't help grumbling out the "now he tells me", with a twisted frown and a bit of a growl.  
   
"What?"  
"You're cute when you're hung-over." Poe continues laughing.  
"I'll show you cute." You raise a clenched fist, but Poe isn't impressed. He gets up and rounds his desk towards you. Not even a defensive stance has him back off when he leans in for a kiss against your temple.  
"So, what are we doing today?" You ask when he returns to his chair.  
   
Poe runs a hand over his face, a frustrated sigh crossing his lips. "The same thing we've been doing for the last four weeks. Patrolling trade lanes."  
You let out a frustrated sigh of your own. "I suppose someone's gotta make sure the senators get their exotic fruits and imported wines for their lavish banquets."  
   
Poe's brows pull tight. Not so much at the sarcasm but that you have actually just said those words. Out of the two of you, you -so far- have always been the //see it from everyone's perspective// type. That there is a reason for being this far out, in the middle of nowhere, even though most incidents could easily be handled by lesser skilled pilots. Especially since most pirates in this system own ships held together by not much more than engine tape and patchwork panels.  So that you've just said those words...  
   
Poe scoffs. Clearly, he has started rubbing off on you with his talk about collusion between high key senators and the First Order. The problem is that, other than whispers, he has no proof. So patrolling trade lanes it is. It's not the prestigious post either of you had envisioned when you had graduated. Not that Poe sees romance in war. Neither do you. For that, you both had heard too many stories from last war's survivors.  
   
But he gets it because he, too, feels overqualified for patrols in a sector as far out as Mirrin Prime. Especially with the New Republic's awareness of The First Order's recent advancements. Slow encroachment into neutral zones. Some not far off from Mirrin Prime.  
   
He hitches a breath and ambles back towards you. Another kiss against your temple, and this time he remains there, pushing a heavy breath through his nose onto your skin. "Let's go. Trade lanes are waiting." He smiles a weary smile.  
"How exciting." You scoff out a chuckle. Not much else either of you can do.  
   
You set your cup on Poe's desk and make your way towards the T-85s. "Alright, lieutenants. Time to make these babies purr."  
"You think it'll be as adventurous as yesterday?" Karé asks with a strong sarcastic undertone, already climbing into the cockpit of her X-Wing.  
"Oh, you bettcha. Gotta make sure the void is still there, right?" You throw on your helmet and look back over your shoulder, Poe shaking his head with a light laugh. "You with us, Commander?"  
"'Course I'm with you. Someone's gotta make sure you guys behave."  
You roll your eyes. "And who's watching you?"  
"Hey... what's that supposed to mean?"  
"That you're as bored as the rest of us." You grin as the canopy closes over you.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *PT = Physical Training


	11. Chapter 11

Poe’s fist meets the metal table in your kitchen. Despite the force behind it, you don't flinch. Instead, you stand hauntingly still, staring past Poe at some imaginary point; your mind still catching up with screamed commands.  
   
" _Muran, eject. EJECT_!" Karé's voice is on repeat inside your head. And so is the image of Muran's X-Wing getting torn to pieces. A slew of images actually. Images that seem to blend with each repeating cycle: freighter, TIEs, flashes of red and green, Muran's X-Wing, hyperspace wake, debris.  
   
   
Freighter,  
   
TIEs,  
   
flashes of red and green,  
   
Muran's X-Wing,  
   
hyperspace wake,  
   
debris...  
   
   
Poe's fist meets the table again, the sharp sound snapping you back to the now.  
“Deso doesn't care! He's just a pawn to acquiesce command. I’ve told him what happened with the _Yissira Zyde_. You know what he kriffing told me, [Y/N]? You know **WHAT HE SAID**? He said we’ll deal with the First Order if they attack again. **IF**? He knows it's **WHEN**!” Poe’s fist slams down again, and you can see the beginnings of bruises across his knuckles.  
   
“I’ve told Deso for months. No, YEARS! Things are off. That The First Order is encroaching. I've told him today. And now Muran is dead! He’s dead...  he’s... he's dead.” Poe collapses to his knees, angry tears rolling down his cheeks when he looks up at you. “And you... you... you could’ve died out there today.” His arms slide around you, face pressing into you, the tremble in his hold not going unnoticed by you.  
  
It takes a moment to take in all the words. And a moment to reply. The issue isn't what words to choose. There are plenty of words now flooding your mind. It's more about regaining the ability to speak, that last bit of blurred daze paralyzing you that way.  
Your fingers thread gently through Poe's curls. An attempt to soothe him and yourself. “But I didn’t, Poe.” You whisper. "I didn't die." Your words become stronger as the daze lifts away.   
Poe shakes his head. “Maybe not today. What about the next time? Or the one after that?"  
You sigh. "This is what we trained for, Poe. Our job."  
   
You can feel Poe tense up at those words. Reality suddenly hits hard. He would give his own life to protect what he believes in. To protect whom and what he loves. But the fact that you would as well is something he has not considered. Or rather, denied. Not that he doubts you would. But the thought itself is all too real. Especially today. Especially after Muran.  
   
Poe looks up at you, the usually rich brown of his eyes dulled with worry. "I can’t... I can’t ask you to follow me. To risk your life like that.”   
Your hands slip from his hair. You know where this is going. You have always been a little afraid the day might come when his thoughts would go there. “Well, you don’t get to decide that, now do you?”  
  
Poe tenses again, standing back up and taking a step back. His brows pull tight and dull becomes cold and stern. “Technically, I could.”  
“If you’re pulling rank on me, Commander Dameron, you’ll have another thing coming!” You glare at Poe, your defenses spiraling up at lightning speed.  
  
There's a moment where you can see Poe's lips part. Anger in how the corners purse. But then cold and stern falters back to dulled worry, more tears collecting at the brims. “I’m not pulling rank on you. I just... [Y/N]... I... I can’t lose you. I can't... I love you. I love you so much.” Poe closes the gap between you and him, his arms slipping back around you, his head falling onto your shoulder.  
   
Your hands thread back into his curls; your nose coming to a rest on the exposed skin of his neck, taking in his scent. Today it's sweat and engine grease mixed with hints of metals and plastic, and... fear. “Taking me off the team wouldn’t be fair to Karé and Iolo, or to Muran for that matter.”  
“But... I love you.” Poe whispers, pressing you tighter against himself.  
You wait before you reply. It's a way to give Poe a chance to brace himself for the words he already knows you're going to say. “Then let me do my job.”  
   
Poe nods. If with some hesitation. He knows what you both have signed on for. And that includes the realness of approaching war. Today had brought that realness one step closer. Nights spent talking are not just talking anymore. This is it. The cusp. You both know it.  
   
You palm away the last of Poe's tears, waiting because you see something else grow behind those browns. Dullness slowly making way for a fire you recognize all too well. You're sure your own tears will come later, but right now, that something, that fire to be more precise, has your brow perk high. "What are you thinking, Poe?"  
   
He shakes his head, chewing his bottom lip.  
"Poe!"  
He never could lie to you. Or keep secrets. "I'm going after them. To find the _Zyde_. To find proof." He whispers.  
"I take it Deso told you not to."  
Poe doesn't have to answer the way his eyes flash with determination. Fiery determination!  
"When are we leaving?"  
"[Y/N]... You can't... you'll lose your commission if he finds out."  
"I'll lose my commission either way when he finds out that you've told me."  
Poe bites his lip and shakes his head with a chuckle. "You sure?"  
"I told you, Poe. I'm with you. Always. Let's do this. For Muran."  
"For Muran."  
 


	12. Chapter 12

"Major [Y/L/N]! Jump into hyperspace! That's an order!"  
"No can do, Commander. You have TIEs on your six."  
"I can handle them. Jump! Now!"  
"Poe!"  
"Major! Last time! Jump!"  
   
You bite your lower lip. Hard. How much you hate this very moment. Heat of battle and he tells you to leave. The words you want to yell through your comm. Not even the infamous Han Solo knows some of those words.  
"Your droid has the data, too. Jump!" Poe commands again.  
One last second of hesitation from you as you watch several TIEs screaming overhead and after Rapier One. "You better be right behind me, Dameron, or else, I'll hunt you down myself."  
   
You swear you hear a laugh just when your X-Wing stretches into hyperspace.  
Not long after that, another stretch, and you're back in realspace near Mirrin Prime, your droid beeping rapidly. "I know, Beebee Twelve. I know! We left them behind. But you know when Commander Dameron gives an order..." You don't have to finish the sentence. BB-12 finishes it for you with little beeps that sound almost like sighed sobs. "Don't worry, Beebee Twelve. I'm sure Poe and Beebee Eight are right behind us." You try to soothe the droid, but even you have to admit, you're not sounding very convincing.  
   
Your eyes search the space around you, only now becoming aware of the two missing X-Wings. "Rapier Two. Rapier Three. What's your location? Over."  
Nothing.  
You wait a couple of seconds. "Lieutenant Kun. Lieutenant Arana. What's your location? Over."  
Still nothing.  
   
You contemplate. Wait for Poe to return or head to Mirrin Prime. Poe hadn't been far behind when you'd jumped, but the absence of Rapiers Two and Three sets off all your alarms. You decide to head towards Mirrin Prime, your dash coming alive with Mirrin Prime's command code once you're within distance.  
   
"Rapier Five. This is Mirrin Flight Control. Respond."  
Your heart picks up speed. The voice on the other end is new to you. Stern sounding. Firm. Definitely authoritative. You gulp, taking in a deep breath for courage. "Rapier Five awaiting clearance."  
"Proceed to landing-bay twenty-one. You are cleared for landing."  
Your brows contract with confusion. "Rapier Squadron docks bay seven. Repeat and confirm."  
"Major [Y/L/N]. Proceed to landing-bay twenty-one. Do not deviate. Over and out."  
   
Your heart pounds in your chest. It's a good thing, you've only eaten a small meal prior to this mission -unsanctioned mission to be exact- or else you would've hurled right then and there.  
You approach the assigned landing bay, BB-12 beeping nervously. "I know. I know. We're in trouble."  
You've barely shut off the engines when you see three figures approaching your X-Wing. There is hesitation in opening the canopy. You don't recognize any of the faces. Granted, the base is pretty big, so you doubt that you've met everyone here.  
   
Even so. You are fairly familiar with most upper-level officers, and from what you can decipher through the glass, the human male walking in center is a major and you have never seen him before. Not here. Not on Tharixx 5. Not while at the academy. And he looks old enough to have taught at the academy.   
The other two figures are military police. One Keshian, by the looks of her eyes. The other, a Togrutan male with blue-hued skin.  
   
You open the canopy at last, the small group stopping when you do. The MPs' hands darting to their holstered weapons doesn't go past you. A precaution, you are sure. BB-12 draws your attention with a timid beep. "I don't think they'll hurt us." You whisper as you punch in the code to release your droid from its X-Wing socket. A small thud, and you know your droid is on the ground, so you follow, not waiting for the retractable ladder to descend, but rather jumping over the edge of the cockpit to the floor.  
   
You can feel the questions crawling into the back of your mind once you stand face to face with the waiting group, but before you can speak, the human male approaches you. "You're not under arrest, Major [Y/L/N]. But I do need you to come along, no questions asked."  
There's a familiarity to how this officer speaks. How he moves. How he looks at you. But you can't quite place it. So you follow, at least one question you want answered on your mind. "Who are you?"  
   
"I'm Major Ematt." The major stops in front of a speeder, waiting for you. "No more questions, Major [Y/L/N]. Unless... you wish to make the General wait."  
The word general sends shivers down your spine. This is not just upper base level. This is High Command. You gulp. If not under arrest, it's likely a demotion. If you're lucky, they'll only knock you back to Captain.  
   
You're just about to get in the speeder when you hear a crackle through one of the MPs' comms. "Tell Major Ematt that Rapier One has emerged from hyperspace."  
You can't help the sigh of relief that slips out at those words, and Major Ematt takes notice. With a smile. A warm one, and you, once again, see a familiarity you can't quite place. "You're not under arrest; but... no more questions." Major Ematt repeats, waiting for you to get in the speeder.  
 


	13. Chapter 13

You jump out of the speeder, your heart going what feels like a million beats per minute. A metallic thud lets you know that BB-12 is right behind you. You hesitate to move forward but the Keshian MP extending her arm towards the small, gray hut means that you don't have much choice in the matter.  
   
You've wanted to ask questions the entire way over, especially when you noticed that the speeder was going off-base rather than towards base command. Far off-base. And had Major Ematt accompanied you, you likely would've asked why, even though you know he would've insisted that you not ask. But somehow you feel that he would've given an honest answer. Short -likely a one or two-word answer- but honest. Instead, you'd spent the way to wherever with clenched jaw and clenched fists and a heart pounding so hard, you thought it was ready to jump out of your chest.  
   
You glance back over your shoulder one more time, noting the low hanging clouds moving in. Rain is coming. And it's coming soon. One more moment of hesitation -and a lifted brow from the Keshian MP-, then you finally enter the little hut, BB-12 rolling timidly behind you.  
   
It takes a few moments for your eyes to adjust. The lights are dim, more shadows than light, but once you recognize who's sitting behind the desk, you scramble to stand at attention, your right hand swiftly moving to your head for a salute; your right foot lightly kicking BB-12 to stand up straight as well. At least what would be considered standing up straight for a droid that is basically a ball with a dome-shaped head. "General Organa. Major [Y/L/N] reporting as requested." You remain at attention, your whole body so tense, it aches.  
   
General Organa doesn't move. In fact, you're not even sure if she's awake, the way her head is tilted slightly forward, and how she seems completely still with arms at rest on the desk. If it wasn't for the slight movement indicating breathing, you probably would've dashed to see if she's ok.   
   
You clear your throat, still holding attention, and at last, General Organa lifts her head, a bit of a smirk in the corners of her lips and a feisty spark behind her eyes. "At ease, Major [Y/L/N]." General Organa trades smirk and spark for a kind smile, and you are taken aback. Not by her smile, but the softness in her voice. Warmth, to be more exact. The same warmth that now seems to envelop the entire room. "You may sit." She continues to smile, voice still as warm, and you, unsure how to respond, kind of stumble to the nearest chair, still quite tense.  
   
General Organa chuckles, and you manage a "sorry".  
"No need to be sorry, Major [Y/L/N]. Please instruct your droid to power down." The general's smile doesn't wane.  BB-12 beeps in protest, but a few stern words, and your droid finally powers down, one last complaint in tow. You see the general mute a snicker at the exchange, then she falls completely silent again, looking over whatever it is that is on the desk, and you take a chance to study the room.  
   
The New Republic newscast is running via holographic projection against one wall. Muted. A protocol droid stands by a charging port next to that. It appears in rest mode. At center is the desk, littered with data-pads, mugs, and scribe tools. Holographic maps stretch another wall.  
   
A closer look at the maps and you recognize similarities. But it's not like what you've seen in Deso's office. No. The maps you're thinking of aren't even holographic. The ones you're thinking of are printed on large plastic canvases and hang above a desk. Yours and Poe's desk. In your shared quarters.  
   
For the first time, though, you feel like you're seeing actual confirmation to all the whispers. Truth behind all those long nights spent talking. Poe's intel is right. Deso's is wrong.  
"They've started moving into neutral zones. Getting bolder by the day." General Organa's voice diverts your attention back to her.  
You nod. "Poe... I mean... Commander Dameron would agree."  
"And you?"  
   
There's an inquiry behind the inquiry. Not just if you agree, now that you've seen the holographic maps, but if you've ever doubted Poe. "I always believed that there is truth to what Commander Dameron has told me. Even when I couldn't quite see it, yet."  
General Organa still smiles, but there's something new behind her eyes now. Curiosity. She's analyzing you. Your expression. Your posture. Your breathing. You feel like she even knows your heart rate at this very moment. "He does have quite an insight, doesn't he?"  
   
You don't answer right away. Instead, you study the room again. And General Organa. A quick survey. A quick confirmation to an assumption. "You're not here on official business, are you General?"  
An almost sly smile flashes across General Organa's face and suddenly all fear of demotion or trouble falls away.  
   
"Do you think Commander Dameron would join the resistance?"  
"I doubt you'd have to ask him twice."  
"And what about you, Major [Y/L/N]?"  
Your line of sight falls back to the maps, then back to General Organa. There are two answers on your mind. The one you're sure of, and the one that depends on Poe's decision. But you know Poe. You've known him for over ten years. You know that he'd not hesitate for even a fraction of a microsecond if it means doing the right thing. And neither would you. Regardless of what Poe might choose.  
   
You smile confidently, certain that your own answer will align with Poe's. "When do we leave?"  
General Organa offers a knowing smirk. "After I've talked to your boyfriend."  
You chuckle, abashed. "Is there anything you don't know, General?"  
"Quite a lot, actually. But I do know, right now, your boyfriend is waiting outside, and if we keep him waiting much longer, he might catch a cold."  
   
You laugh. "Yeah. Best not keep him waiting. He's a grump when he gets sick."  
"That's information, I could've lived without." General Organa raises an amused brow, and you snicker. "Go, start packing. And don't forget your droid. I'll see you when you get to the _Echo of Hope_."  
You nod, powering up BB-12. "And Commander [Y/L/N]. Not a word to Major Deso. Is that clear."  
   
Your brows contract for a moment. "Yes, General. But it's... uhm Major [Y/L/N]."  
"Not anymore."  
 


	14. Chapter 14

You growl low in frustration, throwing your hydrospanner into the toolbox below you. Somehow, one of the fusial thrust split-engines of your newly assigned T-70 keeps stuttering when exiting hyperspace and you can't figure out why. You've checked every line, every bolt; even gone as far as stripping down the unit to its bare skeleton and comparing it piece by piece to an intact engine with the help of your droid. Twice! And still...  
   
"Kriff this!" You scoff, then climb into the cockpit to give your brain a rest. Going back to quarters would be favorable but truth be told, the misbehaving engine isn't the only thing that has your mood sour.  
   
Life on the _Echo of Hope_ is crammed. The ship itself is massive, easily capable of holding and housing a crew of 5,000 and up; and -if it wasn't military spec- 10,000 passengers at maximum capacity. In fact, from bow to stern it's a nice, little 1k jog. Or run if the desire is to go faster. So space in terms of stretching legs is not the problem.  
   
The ship, however, has been refitted for the Resistance. There's no space for passengers because storage for scarce supplies takes priority. And personal quarters larger than a single room are a luxury offered only to those at top level. Neither of those things takes away from the enormity of the ship. In fact, at night, with its empty corridors and hollow metal sounds, the ship seems hauntingly endless in every way.  
So life on the _Echo of Hope_ is actually not crammed.  
   
However, life on the _Echo of Hope_ sharing quarters with Poe... Now that's another story. Thing is, you can't be upset with him. Not really. He's always been more on the messy side. A sweat-drenched shirt after a long mission here. Haphazard boots after a day of briefings there. A stray sock in a corner nowhere near the refresher or the bed in between.  
   
In previously shared quarters, this didn't bother you. For one, because you each had your own corner to retreat to if needed, and the other person's belongings were not allowed to encroach. And for two, he eventually did pick up after himself. Usually whenever he ran out of clothes to wear or whenever he knew people were coming over. But now, that you're occupying a single room where sleeping and living are squeezed into tiny corners opposite of each other, his carefree "I pick this up whenever" attitude seems multiplied. And today, that one stray sock was just plain and simple too much.  
   
You rub your hands over your face, the frustration from earlier slowly fading away, when -out of your peripheral- you glimpse a plate with what looks like Wasaka berry pie carefully rising over the edge of the cockpit. That, and a little white flag improvised from an oil rag and a metal rod. "Is it safe to approach?" You hear Poe mumble from just below the plate, and you can't help but chuckle at the gloominess in his voice.  
   
"You think you can make amends with a slice of Wasaka berry pie?" You tease.  
"No... but I can with these."  
Another plate comes into view, this one filled with Juna berries. A rarity. Especially on a spaceship. "How'd you get a hold of those?" You take the second plate from Poe's hand, snickering when you see him rise just enough so he can peer over the edge at you. He's definitely working an apologetic pout, and you roll your eyes.  
   
"Sorry about the socks."  
You quirk a brow and eat one of the Juna berries.  
"And for leaving the towel on the floor."  
You eat another Juna berry.  
"And messing up your favorite shirt"  
You quirk a brow.  
"Oh... you didn't know about that one. Yeah... uhm... may have used it to wipe my hands. Didn't notice it was your favorite shirt until after. But I'll get it cleaned. And it'll be like brand-new."  
   
You shake your head, quickly eating the last of the Juna berries. "It's just a shirt."  
It's Poe who quirks a brow this time.  
You hand the plate back to Poe, gesturing for him to move out of the way so you can climb down the ladder. Once your feet reach the floor, you claim the plate with the Wasaka berry pie. "Not letting this go to waste." You grin and Poe chuckles.  
   
He watches you finish the slice and you scrunch up your face at his lingering gaze. "I really am sorry about the mess. I'll try and pick up more often." He slides an arm around your waist, squeezing you into a side-hug while leaving a kiss on your temple.  
You exhale sharply at the promise. And at yourself. Not like you don't recognize that you've got your own flaws. "I'll try to pick up dinner more often."  You whisper.  
   
Poe waits, his lip curling upwards at one corner.  
"And... I'll try stop bringing work back with me." Your eyes cast down.  
You hear Poe chuckle, his nose squishing against the side of your head with a slow exhale. "We both need to stop doing that." He admits and you pivot into his body.  
"I don't want to fight over trivial things."  
"I don't either, Sweetheart."  
   
You chuckle. It's been a while since he's called you that. You bite your lip.  
The urge to counter with an insisting request is great, but you rather not ask right now, and somehow Poe knows. You know he knows because you can feel his chest shake with a held back laugh before he lifts your head by the chin. A knowing gaze, he tips his forehead to yours. "Chicken shit." He whispers, and you can feel the blood rush to your cheeks.  
   
You both stand quiet for another minute or two, finding comfort in tight closeness when just a few hours ago you wanted nothing more than space.  
"Let's fix your X-Wing." Poe whispers, and you nod. "And then maybe sneak more Juna berries." He grins and before you can object, he pulls you in for a kiss.   
 


	15. Chapter 15

Life aboard the _Echo of Hope_ is busy. Between reconnaissance missions and fixing up near-retirement T-70s, there are long briefings and constant training. "Mission readiness" is a steady reminder that the First Order is growing in numbers. Not just in manpower but in brute firepower; whispers of Resurgent-class Star Destroyers getting build in massive shipyards in the Unknown Regions making the rounds. But they are only whispers for now, Resistance command unable to confirm thus far.  
   
Despite all that -the briefings, the missions, the repairs and training, and even the whispers- life on the _Echo of Hope_ is not all grit and grime. The morale of the slowly expanding crew is as important as "mission readiness". So a few days back, to welcome new recruits, General Organa had given the ok for a gala; showing up in full dress uniform a requirement.  
   
Initially, there'd been some protest. Gala is a word that reflects the Galactic Senate and High Command of the New Republic military; not the Resistance. But the General had stood by her order. "We might be rebel scum, but that doesn't mean that we have to act like it."   
"So we're rebels now? Sweet." Poe had stated with such confidence that it had made the General laugh. Wholeheartedly.  
"Not quite, yet, Commander. But if you keep recruiting the best..." There had been a flicker in General Organa's eye. At the thought and at the crimson ears that had followed the praise that day. And even now the little exchange makes you laugh.  
   
"What's so funny?" Poe asks, pressing you firmly against his body while the two of you sway along to another waltz.  
You bite your lower lip, snickering, and Poe perks a soft //tell me// brow. "You are, Commander. You and General Organa."  
Poe squints at you. "How so?"  
You wait with the response. Solely because now and then it feels nice to make Poe squirm. "You feed off each other. You sass, and she sasses back. She makes a joke, and you enhance the moment. If I wasn't sure about who your parents are...," You pause with a great deal of caution, but a soft smile from Poe and you know he isn't offended. "But when she gives you even a hint of a compliment." You snicker, again, brushing your fingertips over Poe's ears, and he playfully nips your neck before lifting your arm for a slow spin.  
   
The gala itself isn't as bad as some had initially thought. The uniform may be mandatory but that's where the similarities to high society and status end. Yes, there is a formal banquet. Yes, there is a formal band. Yes, there are speeches. But it's Resistance members who have prepped the food. And it's Resistance members who man the instruments. And it's Resistance officers who give the speeches. Words of praise. Words of encouragement. Words of appreciation.  
   
It's classy but not in a pompous or pretend kind of way. Something both, you and Poe, are grateful for because neither of you was ever about the masked grandeur New Republic military functions offered. Here, on the _Echo of Hope_ , the grit and grime of military life aren't cloaked behind gold-veined pillars and marble floors to appease higher ups and social elites.  
   
Here, the people who've prepped the food sit at the same tables as mechanics, pilots, and command. Here, the band doesn't disappear behind a monstrosity of a velvet curtain, not to be seen again for the rest of the night, but instead hops off the stage to join the banter.  
Here, there is no glorification of what military life is like.  
Here, the grit and grime enhance the truth.  
   
That life on the _Echo of Hope_ is busy. That days in the Resistance are filled with missions, briefings, training, and repairs. That war is on the horizon and "mission readiness" is ever-present. That this is but a slow moment not to be taken for granted.  
   
A slow moment, Poe realizes, neither of you has had in weeks. "Let's get out of here." He whispers into your ear and you quirk a questioning brow. "Come on. Let's disappear for a while." He smiles, biting his lower lip.  
   
His hold on you loosens just enough so he can slip his hands into yours. A tug and a tilt of the head; and a fiery spark behind rich browns, and you know what "let's disappear" really means.  
You peer around the modified cargo room, seeing if anyone would notice you two sneaking away. Something that Poe clearly is not concerned with, the way he's already taking lead towards one of the corridors.  
   
"Poe. Slow down." You chuckle when he picks up the pace after you've passed the last guests. He's nearly running now, his grip on your hand tight as ever.  
"In here?" Your eyes go wide when you reach the destination.  
"No. Up there." Poe points up his refitted X-Wing, lips already detailing your neck.  
You gasp at the passion behind his kisses. An urgent need to have you... right... now. "That's a T-70." You hollow out another gasp.  
"Come on, [Y/N]. We've done this before." Poe's lips trail from your neck to your jaw, then behind your ear, and you are hardly able to hold yourself together.  
   
"That was in a T-85. This is a T-70. No... room... Poe." Your vision is close to failing when Poe sucks on your skin before taking a step back.  
"There will be if we take these off before we climb up there." Poe bites his lip, his hands already unbuttoning his own uniform top. Then the shirt underneath. Then his pants. But not before he pulls off his boots.  
   
A haphazard pile of olive fabric and black leather now lays next to him, and you stare at Poe for a moment. A husked laugh the response to his impatience. And to him standing there in nothing but standard issue briefs and socks.  
"Alright, but... if we get caught."  
"I tell 'em it was all your idea," Poe smirks, his hands now on your uniform top.  
   
Fogged up glass is an understatement when your head falls onto Poe's shoulder some time later. Condensation is so bad, little beads of water start dribbling from the canopy onto your back and you shiver at the feeling.  
"Don't fall asleep." You whisper when you see Poe's eyelids getting heavy.  
"I won't. Just... checking... the inside of my lids." Poe pants lightly and you laugh.  
   
You trail soft kisses over Poe's chest, resting your cheek on his shoulder shortly after. "How long do you think this will last?" You whisper unexpectedly and Poe's eyes pop open.  
He profiles your face with a soft glance, blissful smile trading for hardened edges when he sees you somber. "Will what last?"  
"Whatever this is. This quarrel. This conflict. War."  
Poe heaves a breath, one of his hands softly caressing down your back while he considers the answer. "I don't know. It could be over in the blink of an eye. Or it could last years."  
You push a breath through your nose and Poe squeezes you close.  
   
You don't talk after that. Just hold each other, the occasional kiss a way to comfort each other, but it's clear you are both mulling over things. It's in the way your bodies tense now and then. And in how little sighs push through your noses from time to time. But you don't talk, giving each other mental space.  
   
"So if you two are finished in there, just letting you know, General Organa wants a word." A voice calls from seemingly nowhere.  
"Iolo?" Is a unison response. So is both your eyes widening in shock.  
"Yes, Commanders." Captain Arana's voice goes up in amusement, and you can't help falling into laughter.  
 


	16. Chapter 16

"Let me repeat one more time. This mission is voluntary." Poe's eyes cut to you at the word "voluntary" and you know exactly what he is trying to say, but you don't counter. At least not right now. Not with Karé and Iolo in the room. That would be -despite the unofficial nature of the mission- unprofessional. And uncomfortable.  
   
All you offer is a curl of the lip and Poe's eyes redirect to the holographic projection on the wall, the words "Sabre Strike" and "Pinnacle-class" hanging above the picture of a luxury space yacht.  
   
You watch on, the occasional glance from Poe to you at repeated words like "dangerous", "limited time", and "complete denial" not going past you.  
"Poe. We get it. It could go Bantha-shit." Karé points out while chewing through a bite of a Zeltros slider, and you chuckle at the captain's forwardness. And at the informality in her tone.  
But there's no reprimanding.  
   
Karé and Iolo aren't just inferior officers. They're friends. They've been since before Muran. Terms like Commander and Sir have long been left behind. Only in front of Resistance command and new recruits is formality ever restored; and even then, it's not uncommon to fall into relaxed banter between the four of you.  
   
Poe continues on for a while. Specs of the ship. Specs of the Uvoss system. Specs of the New Republic squadrons stationed there. You watch him. You see his mouth move but the words are mere background noise. You've fazed out. The way his eyes had cut to you is still on your mind, and you already try to formulate a response for when Karé and Iolo leave.  
   
"[Y/N], everything alright?" Iolo's voice snaps you back and you sit confused for a second.  
"What?"  
"I think, it's time to call it a night." Poe's eyes detail you sternly. "Let's regroup tomorrow evening. By then I should have an idea how we're going to get our hands on some Zee Ninety-fives." Poe's gaze stays fixed on you and you take another moment to process his words.  
   
Your brows contract. "Zee Ninety-fives? I might be able to help with that."  
Karé rubs her hands together, smiling. "Alright, now we talking."  
"Hmmmm... we could actually leave tomorrow evening to pick them up." You explain and Iolo's eyes grow big.  
"You know someone who just happens to have four Zee Ninety-fives stashed in their backyard?"  
You nod, your lips curling into a sly smirk.  
"In that case, we'll meet up in hangar bay three. Remember. Civilian clothing. Personal weapons. And not a word..."  
"Poe! If you're trying to offend us, you're slowly getting there." Karé's arms cross at the chest. "We know what off the records means, Commander." She quirks an annoyed but sassy brow, and Poe chuckles.  
   
Two minutes later you and Poe stand alone in your quarters. Almost alone that is. BB-8 and BB-12 are as usual present, but the droids have powered down for the night, thus their absent beeps and chirps making it seem as though you and Poe are alone.  
   
"[Y/N]..." Poe starts but you cut him off with a cold shoulder.  
You gear towards your locker next to your droid, scrounging through for civilian type clothing.  
"What's wrong?" Poe closes in and you slam your locker shut, turning to face Poe.  
"I saw the way you looked at me, Poe. When you said //voluntary//."  
"[Y/N]..."  
"No!" Your eyes darken with anger. So much so that Poe takes a step back. "Let me remind you that I'm as qualified for this as you are. And that General Organa asked both of us, not just you."  
"[Y/N]..." Poe tries again but you shake your head, disappearing into the refresher.  
   
When you return, Poe lies already curled up in bed, his back to you, lights dimmed, and you contemplate sleeping on the floor, or even in your X-Wing. But this is not how you want to leave things.  
You slip under the covers next to Poe, one arm sliding over him as you kiss his shoulder. "I know, you're not asleep, yet." You whisper, and you feel Poe scoff out a breath. "I know you're worried. But Poe... " You halt and wait. You've had this conversation before. Quite a few times over. So Poe knows what you're going to say.  
   
He stirs and flips to face you, one palm caressing your face. "I can't stand the thought of losing you." He whispers.  
"You think it's easy for me, knowing you could get hurt."  
Poe shakes his head. His thumb traces your lips, and you can tell he's lost in thought the way his eyes do the same. His face softens into a smile and you quirk a brow.  
"What?"  
"Sometimes, I wonder if this is what my parents were like," Poe whispers.  
"Like what? Scared?"  
Poe shakes his head, his face softening even more. "No. I mean... stubborn." He laughs, and so do you.  
You settle into soft gazes, you palming Poe's face now. "Time to get some sleep, Commander."  
"Not until you tell me how you know someone who happens to have four Zee Ninety-fives."  
 


	17. Chapter 17

"Nice jacket." Karé approves with a nod, and Poe smiles, hands smoothing over brown leather to show off the fit.  
"Thanks. [Y/N] got it for me on Tharixx 5." He beams.  
"Less talking, more flying." You quip as you stride past Poe with the last crate in your arms, Karé and Poe following so Iolo can shut the ramp.  
   
Poe finds his place in the cockpit of the modified VCX-100 light freighter, his attention on you while you secure the last of the ten or so crates before instructing BB-12 to join the other droids in the back. "Thought you said this won't take long, so why the supplies?"  
"It's not for us." You slide into the co-pilot's chair; pushing a data chip containing the coordinates of your destination into a port. A few, quick words over the commlink, and the small freighter is cleared to leave.  
   
You fly in a patrol pattern around the planet the _Echo of Hope_ is currently orbiting; waiting until you're positive that line of sight is broken before jumping into hyperspace. Not five minutes in, Iolo and Karé are fast asleep, snoozing the trip away crammed into small alcove style bunks while you focus on the dash.  
   
There's no need to keep a close eye. The autopilot is doing all the work. But it is a way to distract yourself. From the silence, and from Poe staring holes into you from the side.  
   
You've never held back telling Poe things. At least not whenever he's asked directly. But this is different. The planet you're headed to isn't just another planet for you. It's a place that stirs up all sorts of feelings and thoughts. A jumble of happy and sad with great dashes of anger in between. All of it attached to faces and events you've not talked about with Poe. At least not in detail, thus far always having been able to skillfully redirect conversation when it had led that way.  
   
You hitch a breath, whispering "you'll see", and Poe nods, if with twisted lips. You know he's trying to understand but the way his brows pull down and the way he pushes out sigh after sigh, you know the questions are gnawing away at him.   
You lightly thumb his lips, knowing he's quite desperate for answers, but a soft gaze and he agrees with the unspoken request not to ask questions. That you'll explain once you get there because that's what you've promised him. And so far, you've always put words into actions.  
   
The trip itself doesn't take long. Karé and Iolo have barely reached the first REM cycle when the freighter stretches back into realspace, the shimmer of a red giant bathed in a vast nebula greeting at re-entry.  
"We have to fly manually from here. The ionization interferes with the readings." You explain when you switch the autopilot off, and Poe's hands shoot to control.  
   
He peers out the canopy, a moment of hesitation settling on his face when he doesn't recognize the system. All he knows for sure is that you are somewhere between the edge of the Outer Rim and Unknown Regions. And that alone has him tense up.  
"Don't worry. Last I heard, the First Order hasn't advanced this far out. Nothing of interest here. At least not for what they need." You side-eye Poe, tone as reassuring as possible, but the tension remains.  
   
You approach the red giant, steering clear of the gravitational pull by a slim margin when you spot your destination: a small, green-blue marbled planet, with hints of red streaks throughout, nestled in a pocket of clear space. Small in contrast to the red giant. Massive compared to your current living conditions on the _Echo of Hope_.  
   
The latter has you sigh in content, despite the earlier reflection. It feels like it's been ages since you've been off the ship. Since you've had anything other than recycled air. So at least, you're looking forward to space. Not dark void, limited by cold metal, seeing the same bulkhead day in and day out, artificial daytime kind of space. But open, see skies and clouds, expand your lungs with fresh air, run for miles, and see the end of a real day kind of space.  
   
The commlink crackles, and you ready for approach. "Unmarked vessel, this is Addos Delta Flight Control. State your intent." A harsh voice demands.  
"Addos Delta, this is Ghost Two. Commander [Y/L/N] requesting permission to land."  
The silence that follows only has Poe on edge, and you can't help a little smirk, because for once, he doesn't have all the details. For once, you're the one a step ahead. Not that it is a competition, but usually he's the one who has it all figured out. And today, it's your turn to show off in that way.  
   
The silence lingers another minute or two, then the comm crackles again. From the corner of your eye, you spy Poe holding a breath, and you bite back a laugh. "You're cleared for landing, Ghost Two. Welcome back, [Y/N]. When you're finished, dinner at Yash's. No excuses. Over and out."  
 


	18. Chapter 18

A gentle breeze is all it takes to make the seemingly infinite fields of red wheat come to life. Patterns of rolling waves and swirls that make the whole of it look like an entity with a mind of its own. It's a soothing contrast to the low hanging clouds tinted in violent reds and harsh grays. A hint that a storm is imminent, looming for the right moment to crack open and drench everything in its path with angry gusts of wind and rain.  
   
You inhale deeply, scents of rain and electricity already invading your senses, but you don't mind.  
Despite the forecast, there's serenity here.  
Calmness.  
   
There are no yelled commands.  
No loudness of expanding and contracting metal.  
No hissing of engines.  
No rush to get things done.  
   
It's just you, the expanse of sweeping red fields, and a still gentle breeze brushing your face. And the sound of soft laughter in the distance. Little laughs that zigzag through the fields towards you, quickly approaching to where you're standing.  
   
 _"I'm gonna get 'chya."_  
 _"I almost gottcha."_  
 _"Gottcha! Muwahahahaha nom nom nom nom."_  
  
There's a squeal, then more laughter, sounds of kisses and pretended nibbles in between, gentle hands cupping wind-whipped cheeks before a swift lift to the skies.  
   
 _"Your turn. Ready? Catch me!"_  
 _"No fair. I can'ts runs as fasts."_  
   
You chuckle at the pouted words and the pouted stance, the little voice smiling at you before it takes off. Another second, then the image fades, a tender squeeze on your shoulder bringing you back to the here.  
"You alright?" Poe stands right next to you, his hand on your shoulder, and you can't recall how he even got there, considering that you had pretty much leapt off the freighter before the ramp had even hit the ground.  
   
It takes a moment to compose yourself. A moment of why you're here.  
You peer around, waiting eyes focused on you. "Yes. Let's go." You take lead, and everyone follows. Serenity disturbed only by the sounds of trudging boots and whirs of metal trailing behind.  
   
It's a good 1k walk from the landing pad to destination, and you can tell by the silence of the squad that there's doubt of anything being here. But before anyone voices concern, you reach the edge of a set in compound. A small collection of domed huts connected by stone slabs and short stairs.  
   
You slowly gear towards the central hut, hand on handle already when Poe squeezes your shoulder, again. "Shouldn't we knock." He chuckles with a hint of nervousness but you shake your head.  
"No need. I know the people who live here." You turn the handle, stepping into the dimly lit hut, a quick scan and a semi-confident "Hello?" in tow.  
   
When you don't get a reply, you step towards one of the windows and open the shutters, what little light the storm clouds allowed enhancing stirred up dust and piles of clutter spread throughout the room. Tools, data pads, disassembled machinery, and empty droid shells. And between it all mugs on every surface. Some still filled with caf and cream.  
   
BB-12's and BB-8's horrified chirps draw your attention to them and you snicker. "Don't worry. He's not going to take you apart. I'll make sure of it." The beeps that follow sound unconvinced but a stern glance from you and the droids quiet down.  
"He?" Poe perks a brow but you ignore the question for now.  
   
"I don't see any fighters." Iolo scans the area, the Keshian trying to pick up traces of anything that human eyes tend to miss.  
"They're here. At least I hope they still are." You state, already collecting mugs in a small crate while simultaneously freeing a few chairs of blankets and tools.  
"You hope they still are? You telling me, you're not sure?" It takes a lot to make Karé nervous but clearly, she's reached her limit with you not telling them anything.  
   
They don't distrust you, but this truly is the first time you've played things close to your chest, and they can't put their finger on the why. You don't say another word. All you do is collect more mugs, and despite the nervous tension, Karé and Iolo help without second thought.  
   
"Kitchen is to the left." You carry a crate with mugs out the door, and Karé and Iolo follow, each with a crate of their own. When you return a minute later, you see Poe standing by the fireplace, fingers tracing one of the framed holoflats on the mantle. A soft creak and his attention shifts to you, brows pulled tighter than ever. "You never told me, you know Major Ematt."  
   
Your eyes widen in surprise. You pace towards Poe, aiming for the holoflat he's now holding in his hands. You study the picture. And sure enough, there he is. Major Ematt, holding little you in his arms, smiling. "That's why he looked so familiar." You whisper, your eyes trailing to Poe's, lips parting, but before you can say anything, another creak draws both your attention back to the front door.  
 


	19. Chapter 19

"Who the hell are you?" A humanoid figure cloaked in a torn poncho growls; one finger on the trigger of a lightweight blaster.  
Before you know what is happening, Poe pushes in front of you, nearly knocking you down in the process; him lifting his own blaster at lightning speed while Iolo and Karé dart into the room, fingers on triggers as well. Four drawn blasters; three against one, with you still finding your own bearings, trying to catch up with everything going on.  
   
"Stop! STOP! STAND DOWN!" You rush to shield the figure from your squad with stretched out arms. "Stand down." You repeat calmer, taking a step back so the figure can get a good look at you. "Stand down." You whisper; waiting, panting, thinking  _'please, pleeeeeease recognize me'_.  
   
It takes more than a second before realization sets in. Almost a whole minute actually to see who stands in front. But once it does, the lightweight blaster drops, and so does the hood of the torn poncho; the worn face of a human male coming to light, eyes shimmering with hints of tears. "Beans?" There's no growl this time. Just warmth and care mixed with hesitant disbelief.  
   
You gulp back your own tears at the slow recognition. It shouldn't have taken this long for him to realize who it is. To comprehend it's you. You reach forward, a gentle hand skimming over rough stubble.  "Yes, Papa. Beans." You carefully close the gap, arms sliding around the still hesitant frame of your father.   
   
He stands almost numb to your touch. Another second, and a tightening embrace from you, then his arms finally close around you. "Oh, Beans. My little Beans." He lifts you into a spin, laughing at last; your tears falling freely now, but with a happy laugh of your own. "Why didn't you tell me you're coming home early from school?" He smiles, and as fast as your joy had appeared it vanishes.  
   
"Papa." You halt, brows pulling tight, a sharp sting making your heart ache.  
"And you brought your friends. Should've let me know. I would've told your mother to bring more cookies from the market." Your father beams as he excitedly shakes the hands of your rather confused squad.  
   
"Papa." You repeat, catching your father by the arm before he is able to rush off to the kitchen, because that’s a thing that has stuck throughout the years. Him being a good host. "Papa. Look at me." You request as softly as possible, squeezing your father's hand with a hint of urgency.  
   
He stills, him studying your face intently. Another moment passes. A moment he very much needs to understand, and once it settles in what you’re trying to make him see, the look behind his eyes is more than heartbreaking. "When did you grow up?" He whispers, tracing an index over the deepening but soft creases on your face. Creases that he knows full well only come with age.   
"A long time ago, Papa." You mouse out, a silent tear rolling down your cheek because you didn't mean to make him sad like this.   
   
"I... uh... I need to check if I have food. I can't remember when I got groceries the last time. Uh... yes, I need to check that. Are your friends staying?" Your father frees himself from your hand, stumbling over things with cast down eyes, pretending like he's searching for something.  
   
You watch him for a while, hoping he'll refocus on you, but he just walks in circles, plucking random items from surfaces. "Papa.” You whisper. “We need your help."  
He stops in his pretended quest for whatever, his back to you as he focuses on an imaginary point past the wall he's facing. "My help? How can  ** _I_** help you? I can never help anyone! I cannot HELP MYSELF! I CANNOT EVEN KEEP HER IN MY LIFE. **HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO HELP YOU!?** " He throws a left behind mug against a wall, startling everyone in the room with his sudden outburst. Even the droids.  
   
You tilt your head to the door, Karé and Iolo taking the hint, but Poe remains.   
You're not sure if it's out of concern for you, or because of a temporary lapse of neurotransmitters not telling his body to get the hell out. No matter. Right now, Poe's rather vacant stare between you and your father is second to everything else, and you don’t feel like repeating your intention for a moment alone with words.   
   
"Papa." You carefully approach your father, one hand reaching out again, gently stroking his face again before swiping a few silver strands of his hair from his forehead.  
He pauses at your touch. "She left, didn't she? Your mother. She's not coming back, is she?" Your father whispers, and you nod.  
"Yes, Papa. A long time ago."  
There's another pause as your father processes your reply. “But you're here. My little Beans." He cups your face, offering a tired smile.  
You snicker softly at the sound of your nickname, despite the fact that you've left it behind years ago. "Yes. I'm here. And I'm always coming back. Always."  
   
The sound of falling metal interrupts and your father’s attention goes to Poe, Poe chuckling out an awkward “sorry”, trying to pick up the toppled pieces of a disassembled droid.  
Your father gives Poe a slow once-over. It's a sizing him up kind of move. Then his gaze goes back to you, soft features greeting you now. “So, what do you need?”  
   
You halt, gauging posture and expression. You don't want to push, but time is ticking, latest intel giving you but a week to acquire everything needed for the off-the-records mission. “Remember the Zee Ninety-fives you nicked with your spy friend on Coruscant?”  
Your father’s face lights up with mischief and suddenly he looks a good ten years younger. “We didn’t nick them. Cassian and I won them fair and square.”  
“Alright." You roll your eyes, your head bobbing lightly in ridicule because you know the truth. "So you remember the Zee Ninety-fives you won in a rigged game of Sabacc? We kind of need them.”  
 


	20. Chapter 20

The storm howls above, gusts of wind and rain whipping down hard on the surface of Addos Delta. That alone isn't so bad, really. But nature's fury loves company, and the earsplitting screams of lightning, followed by the deep rumbles of thunder provide just that.  
   
You flinch at the piercing cracks. Ionized discharges so strong, they not only shake the ground on impact but have been known to take out smaller ships in the blink of an eye. Not just power either, but literally ripped in half at the weakest points type of destruction.  
   
You flinch again and your father chuckles. The elevator trembling doesn't faze him. Nor do the flickering lights that seem to weaken with each strike. "You've been away for too long, Beans." Your father winks. His calm demeanor does nothing to ease your temporary anxiety. You may have been born and raised on Addos Delta, but storms like this always call out tiny, terrified, five-year-old you, the age when you had witnessed your first storm like this.  
  
 _"Beans? Beans? Where are you, little Beans?"_  
 _"Oh, there you are. Come here. Papa will protect you."_  
  
The memory of your father scooping you up into his arms does evoke a smile. And so does him singing to you and wrapping a blanket around you while you had clung onto his shirt with little fists and face buried to hide your fears. You smile again because, after all these years, that protective nature has never waned. Even now, and even with the teased wink, he holds you in a gentle side embrace as though to ensure you that the storm will pass and all will be well.  
   
A light thud a moment later, and you're glad the elevator ride is finally over. At least now you won't get stuck should the power go out; or worse, plummet a good decameter* or two should the cable and brake systems fail before reaching the bottom. Not that it ever had, but ionized discharges are unpredictable, like any lightning really, and the idea that one bolt can easily slice a metal cable like it's butter sends shivers down your spine. Of course, that would be preceded by the voltage traveling down the cable towards the cage first, turning the cage into an oven...  
   
Your eyes go wide and you shudder at the "what if", finally stepping off the elevator. "Stop it." You grumble at the snickers from your squad exiting the same right behind you. Cleary, that long sigh of relief just before the door had opened hadn't gone unnoticed.  
"I think it's hilarious. Didn't think you're scared of anything, Co-mman-der." Karé teases, the tall pilot nudging your shoulder, and you purse your lips.  
"Do I really need to bring up survival training?" Now you're the one teasing.  
Karé is as fearless as they come, but the image of her nearly hurling after eating a grass worm evokes just as much laughter today as it had back on Mirrin Prime.  
   
"When you're ready." Your father's voice draws your attention. He's already a few paces ahead down a narrow passage, so you follow his lead, squad and droids trailing behind you.  
The passage appears endless, nothing but darkness extending either way because the only source of light now is a couple of fusion lanterns provided by your father. You, of course, know it's not endless, and before the droids can chirp another protest -because they seem to fear your father-, you reach him waiting by a heavy, steel door.  
   
A few clicks of the hand wheel and the locking mechanism pops. "Stay here." Your father instructs, and you agree with a nod. He takes off into more endless darkness, the only hint that he's still around the decreasing speck of his fusion lantern. Until, at last, even that disappears.  
   
A few nervous whispers from squad and droids alike make you chuckle. Even Poe, who stands to your immediate right, appears tense. The way his hand curls tightly around yours gives him away like that. The rustling noise suddenly coming from your left, in fact, nearly makes him jump and definitely reach for his blaster, but a squeeze from you and he eases off.  
   
Another second, then a “Ta da....” echoes through. From your father. And accompanied by the popping flashes of lights coming on.  
"What the pfassk..."  
 “Holy kriffing...”  
"... Stars!"  
“Language!”  
   
The lights haven’t even reached the end of what can only be described as a cavern, the length comparable to the _Echo of Hope_ , and already everyone stands with mouth agape and eyes the size of small moons. Everyone except you and your father. In fact, you shake your head with a chuckle.  
You knew that your father walking off was a ruse. He's always done this, so you didn't expect any different today. Not that you mind.  Anything to see his face come to life with jovial mischief is worth it.  
   
“Is that... Holy Maker... is that an N-1 Starfighter?” Karé dashes for a compact fighter the approximate size of a T-85 X-Wing.  
“It is. And right behind it is a Naboo Royal Starship.” Your father proclaims proudly.  
You do a quick count, shaking your head in disbelief. “I thought, we had agreed that you sell some of these, Papa, but it looks like there’s..." You count again. "... at least four new ones.” You scold with crossed arms, and your father’s face scrunches up.   
   
“Come on, let me show you to the Zee’s.” Your father takes lead towards the back. On the way there, he points out other, small starfighters, Poe eyeing you from the side, slightly impressed and maybe slightly terrified.  
   
“Here they are.” Your father pulls a heavy tarp off one of the fighters, a cloud of dust expanding into the air. “I’m sure your droids can help fix these up in no time, but they do lack support sockets, so you’ll have to fly these babies without droid support.”  
"We'll make do." Poe runs a contemplating hand over his face, and you snicker at his continued impressed expression. "Do the hyperdrives work?" He turns to your father.  
   
"They do. But I can't remember when I charged them last. At maximum, you can jump four times, five if the jumps are lowest range..." Your father starts to explain and everyone gets to work, droids checking fuses and connections while the rest ready heavy cables to charge what needs charging.  
   
You're completely immersed in your work when a shadow cast from behind catches your attention. You don't need to turn around to know it's Poe, and to know that the questions have been lining up since the lights came on. Maybe even before then.  Naturally, you guess what he wants to ask, already preparing answers for all the whats and whys and hows. _Why have you never brought me here? Why haven't you told me about your father? What exactly does your father do? How does he get his hands on these ships? Why keep any of this from me? Why shut me out?_  
  
It's not like you've kept your father a secret. You've mentioned things here and there. Mostly fond memories. Times you'd gone with him off planet for your birthday. Cooking disasters because your father never learned even the simplest of recipes. First flight lessons. First ship repairs. Dance lessons. Camping trips. Playing catch in the fields...  
   
But Poe is not oblivious. He knows that whenever he did prod on for more you steered away. So after the third or fourth try, he stopped asking beyond what was comfortable for you to reveal. But today, you know that he wants more. He wants answers. And the way he stands behind you, waiting, you know that a simple "I'll tell you one day" or a redirecting question will not work.  
   
You sigh, dropping the hydrospanner you're holding into the box on the floor. You want to talk first, but all the answers and explanations you've just prepared seem to have fled your mind. So you stand silent, waiting, not even able to turn around to face the man you love so dearly. The man, who has been nothing but an open book with you. You stand silent, waiting, hoping he'll talk first, but a soft sigh is all you hear before you see Poe's shadow moving away.  
   
You squeeze your eyes shut, biting your lower lip. Why didn't you just tell him?  _Stupid. Stupid. I'm so stupid_ , you whisper to yourself.  
"You're not." Poe's voice whispers in front of you, and you open your eyes.  
It takes everything to hold back the tears upon seeing his face.  
You'd expected judgment. Frustration. Even some anger, but there's nothing but warmth. Warmth and understanding.  
   
Poe's eyes track to your father, then back to you, some of the warmth traded for a tiredness you recognize all too well. "We all paid a price, didn't we?" He whispers.  
You look over to where your father is helping Iolo and Karé, hearing him talk of school again, and if they've done their homework, and if their parents know they're here, and if they're allowed to eat dessert before dinner, the latter making you laugh a soft laugh, silent tears rolling down your cheeks when it sets in that Poe truly understands why you haven't wanted to talk about this.  
"Yes. We did." You whisper back and Poe pulls you into a hug, kissing into your hair.  
"Then let's get them. For all of them. Muran. My mother. Your father." He pauses with a deep inhale. "You with me, [Y/N]?"  
"I'm with you, Poe. Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *1 decameter = 10 meters = approx. 33 feet


	21. Chapter 21

"Looks like they're ready to fly." Poe glides a hand over one of the Z-95s, a wide smile on face, BB-8 at his feet chirping in agreement.  
"Not until the storm passes." Your father interjects, pointing up.  
An exchange of looks and your father hitches a breath. "I get it. You are all daring pilots. I'm sure you could even outrun a few strikes. But if you take these out now, you'll crash and burn before you even make it to the stratos." He explains.  
   
You know that time is ticking away, but you agree with your father. "He's right, Poe. Taking one of the Zees out right now is already risky, but four? We'd be gambling our chances, and that is something we can't do." You palm Poe's face, your eyes searching for his.  
"Beans is right, Commander. A few hours of saved time is worth nothing if you die out there. And trust me, you don't want to get struck by an ionized discharge." Your father squeezes Poe's shoulder.  
   
"I guess, waiting a few hours isn't too bad." He concedes, looking over at Iolo who's leaning half snoozing against the Z-95 he's fixed up. "Some rest might actually be good." Poe snickers.  
You smile with a nod. "Yes. Plus we still have to eat dinner. I'll never hear the end of it if I don't at least say hello to Yash."  
   
The mention of the name grabs your father's attention, his eyes going wide. "Yash is cooking dinner? Ohhh...  Let's go! Let's go! Leave the droids." He jumps into a crawler, his sudden impatience making you laugh. And so do the whistled protests by the droids.  
"Go charge up, BB-12." You smile at your green-sphered droid. A string of sad binary beeps and you kneel down. "I'll be back." You pat BB-12's domed head, the little droid leaning sideways to look past you at your father. "He's not going to take you apart. I promise."  
   
"Come on. Let's go, kids." Your father fidgets. A glance over his shoulder and everyone finds a seat in the crawler. You next to him. Poe, Karé, and Iolo in the row behind.  
You head the opposite direction of where you had entered the cavern, a heavy steel door lifting and revealing another underground passage. Unlike the one you had taken to get here, this one is brightly illuminated and wide enough to fit the crawler.  
   
You occasionally glance over your shoulder at the back row. From the corner of your eye, you catch Poe gazing around in amazement, and you know that he's just added more questions to the queue. "Who funded all this?" He asks; pausing to backtrack. He clearly didn't mean to say that out loud.  
"That's what I'd like to know, too." Karé chimes in, Iolo nodding in agreement. "I mean, some of the ships in there easily run 400,000 credits. Even if they're not working. And all this is obviously more than a hangar. This a complex." She points to another door as the crawler drives past. "The maintenance costs alone..."  
   
Your father chances a quick look over his shoulder, chuckling at the curious eyes meeting him in return. He smiles at you and you nod. An unspoken exchange that he can trust your friends. "When rumors started picking up about a possible civil war, the Queen requested to build several storage units for unmarked ships. You know, for undercover missions. The complexes were built under strict secrecy. The ships... uhm... let's just say, we didn't always pay for them." Your father's voice laces with the same jovial mischief he'd displayed when he'd flipped on the lights.  
   
Iolo, sitting directly behind your father, leans forward, brows furrowed. "The Queen?"  
"Her Majesty, Queen Breha of Alderaan." Your father states with such nonchalant timbre that it leaves the back row with slacked jaws.  
   
The lasting silence that follows is a way to process the information, which makes your father chuckle, again.  
"Bail... I mean... Viceroy Bail Organa recommended me personally. I think it was his way to thank me for helping him train his daughter to fly."  
It is Poe who leans in this time. "By his daughter, you don't actually mean..." Poe can't even finish the sentence. Somehow, all of this seems almost unreal.  
"Yes. Her Highness, Princess Leia of Alderaan." Your father quickly winks over his shoulder at Poe, the back row passengers now staring holes into you for more answers.  
   
Before you get a chance to explain why you've never mentioned any of this, the crawler reaches the end of the passage, your father stopping in front of another elevator.  
He enters a code, a slow, rattling sound indicating the elevator's descend. "It's been a while since he's visited." Your father states, line of sight at the counter above the elevator doors.  
   
"Papa." You gently squeeze your father's arm, sorrow in your eyes. You know whom he means. He may have tried to use formality, but you know that the Viceroy had been more than a high titled someone in your father's life. He'd been a mentor and, more importantly, he'd been a friend. A trusted ally who'd recruited your father right out of the academy into the rebellion.  
   
You take a deep breath, squeezing your father's arm again, smiling this time. He's had enough realizations for the day. "I'm sure... I'm sure he'll visit soon." You assure softly, not having the heart to jog your father's memory that Alderaan has been gone for decades and with it the reigning couple. That all that is left of it are a few growing settlements of survivors peppered throughout the galaxy. And that her Highness, Princess Leia of Alderaan has long left her title behind, exchanged for a more fitting designation of General Organa.  
   
You side-eye your friends, a silent request to play along if only for tonight and they nod in agreement, Poe's eyes once again conveying nothing but warmth before his attention shifts to your father. "So, what's up with the nickname? Why Beans?" A smirk flashes across Poe's face and you have the urge elbow him in the ribs.  
 


	22. Chapter 22

"There you are! Thought you'd snuck off planet, again." A Mirialan woman with olive-yellow skin speeds towards you, pulling you into a hug so tight, it knocks the air out of your lungs. "Let me look at you." She squints at you, cupping your face and studying it intently. "Hmmmm..." Her brows contract with worry. "I see stress. Long days. Little sleep. Not enough food. And..." Her face softens into a wide smile. "Love. The same love like last time. You're still with him, aren't you? The pilot."  
   
Your eyes flash to Poe and you bite your lip.  
"Oh.... is that him?" The Mirialan woman now speeds to Poe, studying his face like yours.  
You snicker at Poe's quirked brow confusion. "Guys, this is Yash. Yash, these are my friends. Commander Poe Dameron, Captain Karé Kun, and Captain Iolo Arana."  
"Commander? And you two are captains? And you?" Yash peers face to face, her still holding Poe's, but eyes settling on you.  
"Commander."  
Yash shakes her head. "Quite young to hold such ranks." She states confidently while stroking over Poe's cheek with her palm, which procures another, confused raised brow.  
You, of course, know Yash doesn't mean offense.  
If anything, it's a sign of concern on her part.  
   
"Oh... good. I see [Y/N] heeded my warning." The harsh voice, which had greeted you upon entering Addos Delta's orbit, draws everyone's attention towards the door opposite the elevator. The owner, a tall and muscular Mirialan man with deep green skin, ambles your way.  
Brows stern and posture austere, he stops right in front of you.  
   
Everyone seems to hold a collective breath. Everyone, except you. You stand relaxed, one hand on hip, one brow raised, unimpressed by the commanding stance of the humanoid alien. Not even the fierce purple of his irises scare you. Only when he crosses his arms do you straighten yourself, but only to mirror him. Fierce eyes meeting fierce eyes, until a loud laugh booms through the room. "Tough one, aren't you." The Mirialan man picks you up in a tight hug, you, once again, getting the air knocked out of you. "We've missed you, Beans." He laughs again before releasing his hold.  
   
Like so many times, since you've arrived on this planet, waiting eyes settle on you, and you snicker. "Guys, this is Atheen. Atheen..."  
"Yes. Yes. I've heard." Atheen shakes everyone's hands so vigorously, you can see faces twist in pain. You all stand quiet for a moment. This feels like the awkward family moment you've always tried to avoid. But now, you're here, in the moment, not entirely sure how to proceed.  
   
"Something smells delicious." Iolo finally rediscovers his voice, and his sass it seems, a smirk in tow when he's met with a few warning glares. "What? I'm starving."  
"Good. Because Yash made enough food to feed a small army." Atheen booms out another laugh, one arm hugging around Iolo to drag the Keshian towards the kitchen.  
Yash, on the other hand, is a little more graceful. She links arms with Poe, gently nudging him towards the kitchen with a tilt of the head. Karé does the same with your dad, and you follow with a snicker.  
   
"Wow. Yash. Did I forget someone's birthday?" Your eyes go wide upon seeing the kitchen. Trays filled with your favorite foods sit on the counters, a freshly baked pie by the window sill, and bottles of sweet nectar already line the center of the long dinner table. You were expecting stew. Maybe homemade bread. Not a feast.  
"Nope. Just figured you'd be hungry." Yash laughs, setting the last of the plates with Poe's help.  
You teasingly roll your eyes, jaw going slack when you catch Iolo already nibbling on a slice of Cua'nut bread.  
   
"Oh... right..." Iolo mumbles through a bite. "Uhmm... right... prayer to the Maker?" His voice goes up in pitch. Not so much because he's asking but because of fear. He's forgotten his manners for a split second. Dinner on the _Echo of Hope_ is usually a fast affair. More so when actual food is served, and not rations. So being back in a smaller setting, it takes a moment to slow down.  
Yash snickers and takes Iolo's free hand. "Yes. But it's not mandatory."  
Iolo places the slice on a napkin, the freed hand stretching to Karé.  
   
Dinner on Addos Delta isn't much different than on the _Echo_. Just the pace is slower. There's more time to enjoy the foods served. More time to talk over one another or with one another. No rush to scarf down food and clear for the next squad.  
   
"We still don't know why [Y/N]'s nickname is Beans, by the way." Poe's face wrinkles in triumph when he sees your father focusing on him.  
"It's not that interesting of a story." You try to halt the recollection, but your father's already put down his fork. No way out now.  
"It's because [Y/N] was tiny." Yash blurts out.  
"Really?" Poe's eyes go to you, and so do your father's.  
   
There's a mix of joy and sadness on his face, the way he looks at you. You know the story of course. But you guess it takes a great deal of concentration for your father to get things right. "You were eager to see the light." He laughs softly.  
Poe's brows pull tight. It takes him a moment to get this one. "How eager are we talking?" His face softens with the question.  
   
"Seven weeks... was it? I think it was seven weeks early." Your father's eyes flash to Yash for confirmation, then back to you. He swallows a breath. "In fact, you were born during a storm just like this. You've had enough of waiting in your mother's tummy. I called for a doctor, but before he could get here, you were already on your way." Your father pauses, tracing an index over your cheek. "You were so small. So small... you almost fit into just one of my hands. And when you slept you would curl into yourself, looking like a little bean. My little Beans."  
   
Your father squeezes your hand and you notice the absence of noise at last. Everyone had gone quiet, listening. You wipe away a tear, fidgeting with your fork. "Uhm... dessert, anyone?" You break the silence.  
"Oh,... kriff yes. I call first slice." Karé sasses, but Iolo beats her to the chase.  
   
Another hour of food and sweet nectar, then you help store the leftovers in take-along containers, while Poe helps your father with the dishes, your father shooing Yash out of the kitchen. "The cook doesn't clean!" He yells after her.  
"Yeah yeah. Make sure you put them away the right way this time." She calls back from the family room.  
   
Cleaning dishes is a rhythmic back and forth. Poe scrubs and rinses, your father dries and stows.  
"You remind me of someone." Your father looks up and down Poe from the side.  
"I do? It's not some smuggler, I hope." Poe cracks and your father laughs.  
"No. No. Nothing like that. No... you look like someone I trained a few years ago. A pilot. A great pilot, actually."  
Poe stops scrubbing, eyes fixed on your father, waiting for him to go on.  
   
"Yeah... see, right there. Your eyes. They're just like hers. Determined. Maybe stubborn. But definitely intelligent." Your father sighs, shaking his head. "I can't... I can't remember her name. All I remember is that she learned fast. She outmaneuvered practice TIEs faster than any other student I've ever met. With the exception of the Princess of course."  
"Of course." Poe chuckles.  
"I wish, I had holoflats of the time at the academy. I'm almost sure I could point her out."  
   
Poe gulps. A moment of hesitation, then he pulls a data chip from one of his pockets and connects it to Yash's holopad on the kitchen counter.   
The look of recognition on your father's face is undeniable. "Yes. Yes! That's her. You even have the same hair. Who is she?"  
"My mother," Poe whispers, pulling the chip from the pad.  
"Oh... I... uhm... I see." Your father's face falls when he realizes that he, once again, is stuck in the past. That it's not been just a few years. But rather, decades. He returns to stowing away dishes, avoiding eye contact with Poe.  
   
"You're right, though." Poe smiles as he returns to scrubbing. "She was stubborn."  
"Was?"  
Poe hitches a breath. He doesn't have to say another word. That flash of sadness is all your father needs to understand.  
"I see. I'm... I'm sorry." He whispers after a short pause, then dries off utensils, and Poe chuckles.  
"What's so funny?"  
"Just remembering my time at the academy."  
"Oh. Got any stories on my little Beans?"  
"Do I ever."  
 


	23. Chapter 23

It's late when everyone turns in. Very late. In Addos Delta time, nearly two in the morning.  
After clean up, you all had sat around Yash's and Atheen's living room fireplace, both going back and forth telling stories about Beans. About you. There's a bit of fear that Poe, Karé, and Iolo will never look at you the same again, or at least use the newly gained information to tease you until the end of time.  
   
You huff out a laugh, spitting toothpaste into the sink of your old room's attached refresher, the storm still howling in the background. Intervals between lightning and thunder have increased. A sign that the storm is moving on or dispersing. Technically, you could leave right now, but the promise of a good night's rest and everyone agreed with "might as well".  
   
"Whether we sleep here or on the _Echo_ , we do need sleep." Poe waggles his brows, patting an empty spot next to him on your old bed.  
"Don't get any ideas. This is my dad's place, after all." You scold with a snicker and Poe frowns.  
"Awe." He pouts, then his face returns to a smirk. "We'll catch up on that when we get back, right?" He waggles his brows, again, and you laugh.  
   
You flip off the lights, slipping under the cover next to him, your back to his chest so he can spoon you. The soft kisses he brushes against your skin are no surprise. He always loves kissing your skin every chance he gets.  
   
You drag in a breath. And one more. And another one.  
"What's wrong?" Poe whispers under a kiss.  
You flip to face Poe, dim light from electronics and stars just enough to make out his face. You drag in another breath.  
"Tell me," Poe whispers, brows pulling down in concern.  
 "He wasn't always like that. At least that's what my mother told me before she left." You trace over Poe's nose to his lips, and he waits. "I don't know what Vader did to him. My mother told me that Papa had gotten captured during a mission. He was missing for nearly three months. And then... they let him go."  
   
"Just like that?"  
"Just like that. She mentioned that they were hoping that he'd lead them to a Rebel stronghold, and when he didn't, they abandoned him on some isolated planet. One last jab at his mind to see if he'd volunteer the information after all. I don't think, they thought he'd survive. In fact, I don't think they even knew he'd survived somehow. I don't know how he did. And I don't think I ever will. All I know is, that this is all I've ever known him to be. Strayed. Confused. Some days worse than others."  
   
Poe nods, brushing fingers over your arm so you know he's still listening.  
"I'm not upset that my mother left. At least not anymore. I used to be. Before I understood how heartbreaking it must've been for her to see him like that. Moments of clarity followed by moments of confusion because he thinks Cassian is still alive, or Bail, or his other friends, and then he realizes they're gone. It got worse as the years went on, and eventually, he closed off. That's when she left. She couldn't bear it anymore, to see him like that."  
   
Poe stops brushing his fingers over your arm and you can feel him tensing up. Whatever he wants to ask might hurt. Will hurt. "Is that why you left?"  
Your brows pull together. It stung to hear that question but you know Poe is only curious. "No."  
Poe props his head on his hand, him waiting again when you sit up.  
"I left because Papa insisted I go to the academy. Become a real pilot as he put it. But truth be told, if it wasn't for Yash and Atheen taking care of him, I would have never left. Ever."  
   
Poe draws in a long breath, dropping his head back into the pillow and you follow.  
"I would've never met you." He whispers, and you can hear the conflict in his voice. "But, I can't blame you for thinking like that. If I wasn't sure that my dad can take care of himself, the ranch, the house... I'd probably not have joined the academy either." Poe admits, his body relaxing into the mattress.  
   
You sigh, an index trailing over Poe's brows before playing with an errand curl, and he smiles reassuringly, eyelids getting heavier with each passing second until he lulls off. "I love you, Poe Dameron." You whisper before allowing yourself to do the same, curled into the side of his chest. Like a bean.  
   
A gentle knock on the door in the morning pulls you from hazy bliss.  
"Commanders?" You hear Iolo's voice mumbling from the other side. A glance up and you see Poe still snoozing away, so, as careful as humanly possible, you slide out of bed, and pace to the door.  
"Yes?" You whisper through a small gap, Iolo's eyes tracing over you. "Stop that!"  
"Sorry." He snickers. "We should get going."  
"Yes. Of course. Uhm. I still need to get the crates from the freighter."  
"Already taken care of. We stowed one of the Zees already, too. Droids are boarded as well."  
"Good. Ok. I'll wake Poe and we'll eat breakfast before we leave."  
"Ok." Iolo turns on his heel, ready to head to the kitchen.  
"Iolo."  
"Yes."  
"Thank you."  
   
You close the door as quietly as possible and pace back to the bed. You snicker at Poe's messy curls. And his nearly inaudible snore. He looks peaceful. Sleeping like there isn't a growing threat out there just waiting to rip its claws into peace. You carefully sit down on the edge, playing with another errand curl and he stirs.  
"Hey.... morning." He smiles with a heavy-lidded gaze and you can't help a soft laugh.  
"Morning. Iolo says we should get going."  
Poe props up on his elbows, peering around your room. "Hmmm... " is all he offers. With a frown.  
   
Breakfast, compared to dinner the night before, is fast. Yash and Atheen had stopped by earlier, dropping off fresh bread, jams, and fresh fruit, including your favorite, Juna berries. Your father provides the freshly brewed -and extra strong- Caf. Even Karé, who usually loves strong Caf, has to water hers down, which makes you laugh.  
   
The trek back to the freighter takes longer this time. Not just because the path is soaked but because saying goodbye, knowing your father won't recollect this visit properly, makes your heart ache.  
"I love you, Papa." You run a hand across his stubble.  
"I love you, too, Beans." He pulls you in for a hug.  
"Listen to Yash and Atheen, you hear me."  
"Yes, Beans."  
"I'll come back soon."  
"You be careful out there, Beans. These are dangerous times."  
You're not sure if your father is referencing the Civil War or the imminent threat of the First Order. Either way, his words apply, and your arms tighten.  
   
You let go, and your father shakes the hands of Karé, then Iolo, leaving Poe for last. "You remind me of someone I trained a few years ago." He smiles. "A pilot. A great pilot, actually." He continues to shake Poe's hand, and Poe smiles.  
"I do, huh? Wonder who it is." Poe's eyes lift at the corners.  
Your father's eyes cast down for a second, then focus back on Poe. "Shara. Shara Bey. Excellent pilot. Top of her class. You should look her up. I'm sure she can all teach you a thing or two." He lets go of Poe's hand, pivoting on his heel and trudging back towards the set in compound, leaving Poe standing with mouth agape.  
   
You glance at Poe, trying to gauge him. Trying to figure out if he's upset that your father had brought up the name, your father probably unaware this very moment that Shara isn't around anymore. But Poe just smiles, putting on his helmet at last to ready for takeoff. "He remembered her name." He whispers, and you smile.  
   
 


	24. Chapter 24

You stand legs apart and stomach pressed over the desk, him flush against you from behind, his fingers wedged between yours to hold your hands next to your head. He growls a bite onto your shoulder and you whimper with the final thrust.

  
Heated breaths and your bodies relax against cooling metal, datapads scattered left and right, scribe tools rolling wherever. He huffs out a laugh, tender lips brushing against whatever exposed skin he can get to. Neither of you had had time, or patience, to strip away clothing. Neither of you seems to mind.  
  
It’s all you’ve been able to squeeze into your schedule the last four days. Quick and done lust sprints between infinity felt hours of retrofitting the Z-95s and regular work. Not ideal because, even though these little bursts of passion eased away stress, you both miss the before and after, which at times consists of nothing more than hours and hours of soft kisses and tender massages.  
  
And while Poe likes both equally -the quick and done and the endearing and tender- even he grumbles at the thought that he’s not had a proper night alone with you. Not just the hot and heavy, but actually falling asleep with you in his arms or him in yours, and actually waking up together, often in some tangled mess because you both liked stealing blankets and space.  
  
That, too, has become a luxury, with one of you always returning late or needing to leave early. After all, not only do you have to prep for the off-the-record stint -which by the way you have to take care off during off-duty hours- but you are each in command of your own squadrons. And to avoid suspicions, there is no way around doing both.  
  
So neither of you seem to mind a lack of soft and tender whenever you do manage to get a moment or two alone. Nor that neither of you ever manage to strip out of your clothes entirely. Just the tranquility of the before and after is missed, and today, Poe is adamant to get some of that back, him still holding you pressed against the desk, lazy lips dragging lazy kisses over what little exposed skin he can find. Tiny whispers of “I miss you” in between each kiss.  
“I miss you, too.” You whisper with a smile, cheek pressed against the cold metal of the desk. More kisses, and you can feel your body lulling off. Tranquility setting off a chain reaction. Days of high stress; quick and done relief; exhausted afterglow.  
  
A chime, and your body startles awake. Poe groans a breath onto your skin, making himself like farium. “Go away.”  
Another chime and you snicker. “Coming.” You wiggle against Poe, and he, at last, loosens his hold and straightens himself.  
Flight suits getting zipped fast is a new talent for both of you. You don’t exactly rush to the door, but fast hands and you nearly count as prim and proper by the time you open the door.  
  
“I bet that’s what he said.” Karé greets with mischievous eyes, the tall pilot not even trying to pretend that she doesn't know what you two have been up to.  
“It was more or less grunted.” You shrug. You don’t have to turn around to know Poe is at least a little flushed by your casual remark. A choked back cough and something falling to the floor is plenty confirmation for that, which makes Karé laugh.  
“All out of the system?” She eyes Poe trying to reel back the laugh when she sees him sorting his curls.  
  
A swift pivot and you, too, laugh at his still somewhat undone demeanor.  
“I did say go away.” Poe grouches out.  
“Awe. Sorry, Commander.” Karé laces his rank with a teased pitch. “But Iolo and I are ready to take the Zee Ninety-fives for a test flight.” She hushes out and Poe’s brows perk up at that.  
“Took you long enough.”  
“We’re not the ones sneaking away.” Karé laughs again, and now even you stand a bit flushed. “Come on, you two lovebirds. Or we’ll miss our window. And then all this was for nothing.”  
  
Iolo is already situated in one of the modified Z-95s by the time you reach a separate hangar bay. Even so, the wide grin on his face doesn’t go past. “You two are glowing.” He laughs, and you venture his Keshian eyes picked up an enhanced, post-session aura. Not that Keshian eyes are needed to see that now you’re relaxed when earlier you were ready to throw a hydrospanner into a fuselage.  
  
You raise an un-amused brow. Iolo hasn’t always been as cocky as Karé, but clearly, she’s been rubbing off. “You know, Iolo. How about using those eyes of yours to see if the hyperdrives are working properly.”  
“I can multitask.” Iolo nods nonchalantly, and you can hear Karé laugh from behind you.  
You shake your head. “If you two weren’t our friends.”  
“Yeah, yeah. We’d be scrubbing the floors by hand.” Karé rolls her eyes dramatically. “Stop making us wait. Test flight.” She pushes on.  
  
Not five minutes later and you’re orbiting a small moon.  
“So far, so good.” Poe’s voice crackles through the secure commlink.  
“Could use some more leg space,” Karé grumbles.  
“It is a bit snug. You think you’ll be able to fit with an EVA suit, Poe?” You tail Poe’s six in a swift turn maneuver, Iolo and Karé darting past in their Z-95s for an evasive one.  
  
You can hear Poe inhale deeply. “Guess I don’t have much of a choice.”  
There’s a pause. From Poe. You know he’s going over the mission details again. All the possible what ifs. It’s a tick of his. Almost to the point of obsession. The outcome is always the same. He’ll risk his own life over those under his command. And up until now, there’s been no talking him out of it.  
  
“You know, you don’t have to board the _Grace_ by yourself.” You point out when silence lingers.  
“[Y/N]...” Poe starts.  
“I’m just saying. You don’t have to. We can get another EVA suit. You’ve seen my dad’s place. You think all those fighters were for show. Or the suits? He’s been prepping me since I was strong enough to hold a hydrospanner. All you gotta do is ask, and I’m with you, Poe. I mean, I already am. We all are.”  
  
“I agree with [Y/N]. Two people boarding means higher chances to steal the _Grace_.” Iolo’s voice cuts in.  
“We’re not stealing it. We’re borrowing... Alright, we're stealing it.” Poe corrects himself, unable to hide the mischief in his voice. Then he goes quiet again, and you can tell he’s balancing the pros and cons. Again! He pushes another breath. “Alright.” Another pause. “You better be ready for this, [Y/N], because...”  
“Poe!” You cut him off before he can say //this is dangerous// one more time. “Just ask.”  
You hear him chuckle over the commlink, and you know he’s shaking his head with some disbelief. “You with me?”  
“Always.”

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short hiatus. I was focusing on my other story. Trying to find a balance to update both on a regular basis.

“ **POE!** ” Karé’s voice shouts through the comm.

“I knoOOOoow.” Poe sings the word in annoyance; proximity alarms blaring, warning him of the ever increasing gravitational pull. He flicks a few toggles, the noise ending, at last, leaving you both with a slight ringing in your ears. You also scramble to flip switches; anything to charge the hyperdrive engines faster and to divert non-essential power to forward shields.

This is the trade in for using ionized concussion missiles. A full reset of all systems, including the much-needed hyperdrive. You had anticipated this.  _//Planned for//_  a more fitting term.  
   
1\. Knock out systems    
2\. Board the  _Hevurion_ _Grace_  
3\. Take over the ship disguised as smugglers.  
4\. Kick off anyone on the ship via escape pods.  
5\. Take the ship back once power comes on.  
   
Eight minutes of perfect planning. Eight minutes that had gone out the window the second rescue had shown up. Not Resistance Defense. No. That would have been too easy.  
Instead, the First Order had answered the call, them stealing three and a half minutes of your time by arriving early. Precious time needed to kick-start the hyperdrive. Precious time that is now running out.  
   
“How much longer until full power?” It’s Iolo’s voice coming through the comm this time.  
“Twenty, twenty-five seconds, tops!” Poe’s voice wobbles.  
“[Y/N]!” Iolo doesn’t have to ask the actual question. You know what he wants to know.  
“More like fifty!” You correct, slight panic in your voice.  
   
You look up the canopy and see Iolo’s and Karé’s Z-95s zipping overhead, TIEs screaming in their shadows, blasts of red and green going the other way not even a second later.  
“You are aware that you’re about to be eaten alive!” Karé’s voice holds an edge new to you. You look out the canopy again, the gas giant ahead growing by the second, your own and Poe’s Z-95s long gobbled up in its path.  
   
Another glance out the canopy towards stern and you see a second wave of TIEs launching your way from the Resurgent-class Star Destroyer that has come to the rescue of the  _Hevurion Grace._ “Karé’s right, Poe!”  
“Kriff!” Poe’s eyes shift as his mind floods with solutions. It’s only a split second. Then sudden calmness. “Head for that  _Resurgent_!”  
“What?” Echoes from three directions.  
   
“We can do it. They’ll never outmaneuver us.” Poe’s eyes are filled with a daring fire and if it wasn’t for the whole life or death situation, you’d gladly call him insane.  
“No. They’ll only capture you with the tractor beam.” Iolo’s Z-95 zips past again, two TIEs disintegrating behind him, taken out by Karé in a fallback maneuver.  
“Not if we charge from stern.” Poe holds a breath to see if you agree.  
   
You shake your head.  _//This is madness//_  is a thought that you keep to yourself; the other options as detrimental as this one. It’s either get eaten by the gas giant or cut to pieces by the Resurgent’s growing entourage. And right now, going out fighting, leaving a few bruises on the way, seems the most logical thing to do.  
   
You hitch a breath of your own, shaking your head in disbelief at what you’re about to say. “Head for the  _Resurgent_. Tight formation until you get the order!” You side-eye Poe, his lips curling into a smile.  
“Knew you’d agree with me, Sweetheart.”  
“You keep calling me that…”  
“I know, I know. You’ll have to insist on a proposal!” Poe pulls the  _Grace_  into a sharp spiraling turn to change direction, winking at you from the side.  
   
“Oh no… No, you’re not! You are  **not**  proposing while we’re stealing this kriffing ship!” You hold tight to one of the controls, the turning maneuver anything but  _grace_ ful.  
“Why not?”  
“Are you serious???” You glare at Poe and his smile widens, those damn creases in his cheeks near cracking.  
“Uhm… guys. They’re charging the canons.” Iolo’s voice cuts in.  
   
Poe’s eyes focus ahead and you hold a breath. “Wait. Wait! Wait!! BREAK!” A turbocharged blast misses by inches thanks to a swift bank of the  _Grace_.  
“TIEs in close pursuit!” Karé’s voice scrambles after parting, her Z-95 nearly grazing the Resurgent’s starboard side, the TIEs that had followed her crashing into the destroyer’s hull. “That was close, Commanders!” Her voice lifts in relief.  
“Another one on your six!” You warn Karé.  
“I got you.” Iolo speeds in from port, taking out the TIE on Karé’s tail.  
“Thanks. I owe you one.”  
“You owe me a few.” Iolo coughs and you see his port side streaking smoke. “Oh, by the way. If we could hurry it along. Not sure how much longer I can hold this thing together.”  
“Oh please. You’ve flown rustier ships than this.” Karé trails Iolo’s six, her breaking away when another TIE screams their way.  
   
You scoff a laugh at their lighthearted banter. Midst of battle and they joke like it’s happy hour at their favorite bar. You watch on as your friends take out one TIE after another, one always luring, the other always closing the trap, like a dance in space, and you can’t imagine anyone better suited for the job, except maybe Poe. His piloting skills are definitely tested with this yacht, and you’re glad he’s the one doing the flying while you focus on the hyperdrive.  
   
“Come on! COME ON!” You glower at the dash as though that will speed up the charge, the ship itself trembling under several hits from the closing TIEs. “Almost!” A hard jolt violently shakes the  _Grace_  but she holds at the seams. “ALMOST!” Your eyes are glued to that last flickering bar. You cram yourself into the co-pilot’s seat, quickly fastening belts; Poe following your example to the pilot’s seat, your eyes never leaving that last flickering bar. It swaps to full green and you hold tight. “NOW! EVERYONE: JUMP!”  
   
Poe jerks the controls back, the acceleration pushing you hard into the seats. You watch the destroyer’s distorted outline flash past above the canopy, a low hum following, and at last, the  _Hevurion_   _Grace_  stretches into hyperspace.  
   
All air leaves your lungs as you exhale in relief, your fingernails digging into the armrests of your seat. “Let’s not do that again.” You whisper with a vacant stare out the canopy, the light of stars passing outside the hyperspace tunnel stretching to patches of white and blue.  
   
Poe sets the controls to autopilot, him getting out of his seat and moving to kneel in front of you. His hands fold over yours and your attention shifts to him, your mind still processing the last ten or so minutes. How had any and all of it only been ten minutes? Actually. EIGHT!  
   
You feel Poe’s thumbs circling your hands and you, at last, let yourself relax. Especially when it dawns on you that you’ve made it out alive. With the kriffing ship!  
You close your eyes for a second, taking in a deep breath, then refocus on Poe.  
   
He profiles your face with a lingering gaze, lips curling into a smile, close on the edge of cocky. “So.” The crinkles around his eyes deepen and he squeezes your hands. “Let’s not do what again? Steal a ship? Or propose?” He tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth, waiting while your mind plays catch up to what he’s actually just said.  
   
He watches you intently, waiting to see if you got the message, but you sit mouth agape, words repeating.

 

Again,

 

and again,

 

and one more time.

 

_“Or… pro…pose….?”_

A flash of realization and he reaches for the chain around his neck and takes it off.  
He smiles, playing with the ring on the chain, and you’re not sure if your heart stopped beating, or if it’s beating so fast that it’s just one continuous strum of vibrations. “Well… what do you say, [Y/N]? You with me?”

 


	26. Chapter 26

A gentle thud and the _Hevurion Grace_ , at last, sits nestled safe and sound aboard the main hangar bay of the _Echo of Hope._ You speed to the main ramp of the yacht, punching in the code to release the lock, the slow hiss of the lowering ramp a maddening sound in your ears. Impatience takes over and you jump off before steel meets steel. Not even Poe is able to hold you back. Not that he'd try. He knows why you're in a hurry.  
   
You nearly trip over your boots sprinting towards Iolo and Karé, the pilots offering amused smiles at your fast approach. You reach your friends, squeezing Iolo firm at his shoulders and inspecting his face, and he stares back with bloodshot eyes and a slight rasp in his breath. "Kriff, that was close! Don't ever scare us like that again. Ever!" You punch Iolo's arm before hugging him close and he responds with a wheezed laugh.  
   
"And how about you?" Your eyes now study Karé, the tall pilot the embodiment of collected and cool the way she stands there with an even wider smile on her face. Or so it appears. The second your arms circle around her, collected and cool falls away. She shakes in your embrace, adrenaline wearing off at the speed of light, and you tighten your grip. "You good?"  
You feel Karé nod into your shoulder, a quick huff of air crossing her lips as she sighs in relief.  
   
You let go of Karé, eyes now tracing over Iolo's Z-95 Headhunter. You shake your head at the sight. Sparks still crackle from the port side wing of the compact starfighter, small clouds of smoke dissipating here and there. A closer look and you realize that the wing is hanging on by nothing more than a combination of slashed metal and tangled wires, and you wonder how Iolo was even able to jump into hyperspace with his ship like that.  
You peer face to face, shaking your head again, a great deal of un-kriffing-believable in your eyes.   
   
Maybe it was luck.  
Or maybe skill.  
Or maybe a mixture of both with Maker's help.  
It doesn't really matter.  
The only thing that does is that they're alive.  
And so are you.  
   
The slow noise of stretching metal and snapping wires draws your attention, the three of you tilting your heads in the same direction as you watch the wing detach and fall to the ground.  
"Yup. Close alright." Iolo's eyes grow even wider than they already are. "You think, your dad will be mad? I kind of promised I'd bring these back unharmed."  
You stand as wide-eyed as Iolo, head still tilted as you process the moment. "Nah. I'm sure he's acquired a whole fleet by now."  
   
It's the casual tone of your voice that breaks the moment, the three of you side-eyeing each other for a fraction of a second before falling into mad laughter and a much-needed group hug.  
"Do I get a hug?" Poe sulks from the side, him stepping back when he gets an are-you-serious stare in response. He opens his arms in a //what?// stance and you shake your head with a small laugh.  
"Let's... do a practice run next time." You suggest and Poe quirks a brow.  
"And what? Miss the fun of improvisation?" He smirks and you punch his arm, a small explosion making everyone jump.  
   
"Yeah.... practice run sounds like a great idea." Iolo stares at his Z-95, more pieces falling to the ground with another small explosion coming from one of the wires, and everyone falls back into laughter.  
   
There's excited chatter and plenty of high fives, hands running across faces and through hair, and more tight hugs, when, from your peripheral, you spot the familiar frames of General Organa and Major Ematt heading your way, the General's trusted droid, C-3PO, following close behind.   
   
You square up, and, when the rest see why, they do the same.  
"General." Poe salutes, the rest of the group falling in line, and she shakes her head with a soft smile.  
"At ease." She snickers, her voice warm and a spark of pride behind her eyes. "Quite an adventure you've had." She smirks, her eyes shifting to the _Grace_ , and you can't help but chuckle because it feels as though she's a little disappointed that she's sat this whole heist out.  
   
Leia stands there for a minute, taking in the sight of the stolen yacht, then her attention returns to the group, eyes settling on Iolo, her smirk trading for stern brows and tense jaw. "Captain Kun, accompany Captain Arana to med bay."  
"I'm ok, General." Iolo tries to convince but Leia has none of that.  
"It's not a request. It's an order." She holds a stern gaze and Iolo knows there's no way around. The General may be short, and soft-spoken, but there's an authority to herself that Iolo doesn't dare defy.  
   
He nods, a quick "Yes Ma'am" his reply, then proceeds in the direction of med bay, Karé walking by his side. Leia looks after them, waiting until she's sure they've left, then she turns to Poe. "Commander Dameron. A word." She doesn't wait for a response. She takes off towards the _Grace_ , Poe following without complaint, a quick glance over his shoulder towards you.  
   
You ready to do the same but before you can even take the first step, Major Ematt stops you with a stretched out arm pointing the opposite direction. "Sorry, Commander [Y/L/N]. You're with me." He holds his position, waiting, and you swallow back a gulp.  
 


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's been forever. I'll have one more tiny hiatus. My last chemo round is next week. And then... It's time to drive the story forward. Til then...

You stand opposite Major Ematt, your body stiff from the proper military stance, your mind unsure why you’re here.

The walk to his office had been quiet. Not that you’re surprised. Ematt is never the type to talk much. You’ve noted this during all the meetings since you’ve joined the Resistance. He is always the stern-faced observer. The quiet shadow in the back of the room who only ever seems to communicate through small expressions of agreement or disapproval. At least with the General. And she seems to welcome Ematt’s silence, especially during times of high stress.  
  
Even now, Ematt holds true to being the silent shadow. He stands in a corner, far from any light, the features of his face barely visible but you can tell he’s studying you intently, waiting to see if there’s some secret he can detect just by looking at you. Another deliberate once-over and you find it difficult to hold back a “Why the kriff am I here?”   
  
Ematt steps forward and you see his face soften into a smile. A hint of confusion on your face and he pushes a chuckled breath through his nose. He walks around his desk, rummages around, and pulls two short glasses from one drawer and a bottle of dark spirit from another. “Corellian whiskey?” He offers a glass and you stand even more confused. “Have a seat, Commander [Y/L/N].” Ematt points to a chair opposite his desk and you do as he says because, despite the softened posture, you know that it’s not a request. It’s an order.   
  
Ematt himself takes a seat in a chair behind his desk. He gazes at you, pushing another breath through his nose, then swirls his glass, his eyes fixing on some imaginary point in the dark liquid.   
  
Silence again but you don’t dare to interrupt his thoughts. Instead, you grab your glass and wait, questions lining up at the back of your mind. Some of which you’ve had since your return from Addos Delta. Some of which are only formulating right now.  
  
Your brows contract. You’re not in trouble. You can’t be! The mission had been a success. You’ve brought back the _Hevurion Grace_. Granted, with a few scratches. At least you’ve made it all back alive. At least on your side.   
So why the kriff are you here? Separated from Poe of all things. Why the secrecy? Why the silence? “ Major Ematt...” you start.  
Ematt looks up and takes a swig of his whiskey before replacing his glass back on his desk. “How’s your father, Beans?” He asks with a voice so calm it’s almost scary, and you skip a breath.  
  
Your eyes cast down for a moment, a jumbled mess of memories rushing through your mind. A mess you don’t quite understand. Or maybe don’t want to understand.  
You recall that little voice in the fields of Addos Delta. How it had sounded so tiny but oh so happy getting chased between swirls of red wheat.   
  
_“I'm gonna get 'chya."_  
_"I almost gottcha."_  
_"Gottcha! Muwahahahaha nom”_  
_“Your turn. Ready? Catch me!"_  
_"No fair. I can'ts runs as fasts.”_  
  
You remember that little voice like it was yesterday. How it had always added s’s to nearly every word. How it had loved the thrill of chasing the wind down red fields. How it had always tended to stand with feisty hands on hips and a feisty foot stomping into the ground. You remember because that voice.... that voice had been yours. A long time ago.   
  
Suddenly you see the holoflat. The one that Poe had held at your father’s place. The one that is clearly from happier times before you’d been aware of your father’s struggles. The one that showed a younger Ematt holding little you; you smiling, Ematt laughing, and to the side... your father. And your father...  
  
Your father...  
  
Your father’s expression had seemed...  
  
 ...blank.   
  
Empty.  
  
Parsecs away.  
  
“It was you.” You whisper. “You’re the one who played chase with me during the summers.” You look up, Ematt taking another swig from his whiskey. “All these years, I thought it was my father.” You bite your lower lip, then, at last, take a big gulp from your whiskey, the liquid burning at the back of your throat. It takes a second before the burn fades. A second during which you try to sort through the memories. “Tell me ... Tell me I got a few things right. That all those things we did... the birthdays, the camping trips, the flight lessons... that some of it is just the way I remember them.”  
  
Ematt chuckles, but it’s a sad kind of gesture. You look up and are met with aged lines, Ematt looking a good ten years past his fifty-four-year frame. “Your father needed a lot of help raising you. He was always there of course. But he... had a lot of help. If not from me, then from Yash and Atheen. And sometimes, her Highness.”  
“Her Highness?”  
Ematt’s eyes crinkle upwards at the corners. “The General. Don’t tell her I called her by her old title.” He warns softly and you nod, then his face returns to burdened lines and you wait.  
  
“Your mother... your mother, she loved you very much. She loved your father very much. But...” Your hands clench into tight fists at the mentioning, anger bubbling to the surface, and Ematt takes notice. “I always hoped she’d return, but when I saw the cleaned out closet, and the left behind ring after her last trip off planet...” he continues carefully. “I knew... and I also knew your father wouldn’t comprehend. Not right away at least. He loved her so much. But his confusion made her heart ache. One day, he’d think it was their wedding day, another he’d think he’d just met her, and then other days, he’d remember everything. That they are all gone. Those days... those were the worst.”  
  
Ematt pauses to see if you want to hear more, the only hint from you a waiting stare. “He’d take one of his ships and fly around. That in itself wasn’t bad. But sometimes he’d play chicken with the red giant. I can’t tell you how many times Atheen has chased after him to talk him down. That things would be ok. And your mother... she’d not talk to him for days. She’d cry. For days. They were a shattered mess. In the end, she’d had enough.” Ematt sighs, then he goes silent again.  
  
You gulp down the rest of your whiskey to drown your anger and Major Ematt refills your glass. “I thought, I’d forgiven her, but truth be told... I’m as angry today as the day she left.” You peer around if only to distract yourself so you stay calm. “She must’ve known how difficult it would be for him to raise me. She must’ve... why didn’t she take me with her? WHY?” The last word slips out louder than you’d wanted and you whisper a “sorry” under your breath.  
  
“Because...” Ematt gets up and gears towards the shelf in the corner of his office where he plucks a small box off one of the boards. “... she knew without you, your father would’ve had nothing to live for.” He opens the box and pulls a data card from it and hands it to you. You turn the card in your hand, your name carved on the back of it.   
  
“Why didn’t you tell me, you know my father? My mother?” Your voice is even quieter than before. “You must’ve known who I was the second you saw me on Mirrin Prime? Kriff, even before you’d seen me, you must’ve known.”  
Ematt laughs softly “Truth be told, I was hoping you’d recognize me. But when you didn’t... I figured your father had forgotten about me. Or stopped talking about me... or maybe...”  
“...gotten timelines confused?” You finish Ematt’s sentence and he nods. “Why stop visiting then? Why abandon us like she did?” Those words come out as harsh as you mean them and Ematt hitches a breath.  
  
“Because... he told me to.”  
“Why?”  
Ematt pours himself another glass of whiskey. “He thought I’d taken her from you. That she was staying with me.”  
You hate yourself for even wanting to ask but you can’t help it because now that it’s out there... “And? Did she? Did she run to you?”  
  
Ematt runs a thumb over the edge of his glass. “No.” Is a firm reply and you whisper another sorry. “I loved your parents. They were my family. They took me in when my own was killed. We were such an odd bunch. A collection of runaways, orphans, defectors... But we all fought for the same thing. And some of us paid the ultimate prize while others were... left to suffer eternally.”   
  
You nod, tears edging over the rims of your eyes as you finish your second glass of whiskey.   
Ematt refills your glass one last time, his eyes studying you intently yet again. He waits a few minutes so you have time to process everything he’s told you. “So? How is he, Beans?”  
You take a sip, forcing a smile while you wipe away silent tears. “He’s good.” You sniffle. “He’s somehow acquired more ships. A few small fighters. One freighter.” You chuckle as you shake your head.  
Ematt smiles at the news. “That’s good. He’s always loved flying and fixing up things.” Another pause. Another sip of the Corellian whiskey. “So. Tell me, Beans...” Ematt’s eyes cast to your hands and he smiles even wider. “When’s the wedding?”


End file.
